


Pressed

by Minkel23



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Ben Solo has a sister, Ben Solo/Paige Tico (in the past), Dementia, Earn your HEA, F/F, F/M, Forced Proximity, Implied/Referenced Terrorism, Lots of Paris flashbacks, Magazines, Newspapers, graphic description of a terrorist event, grief and mourning, publishing, read the tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:20:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26797996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minkel23/pseuds/Minkel23
Summary: "Ben wasn’t even sure who started it anymore, but either Rey would turn to face him, kissing the point of his jaw or nuzzling the pulse point of his neck, or he would cup her breasts or bite softly into the curve of her neck. Whoever began it, however it started, the results were always the same. They would kiss and cling and bite and lick and moan and pant and touch and feel until one of them inevitably broke away, before their clothes came off and they reached the point of no return.And every morning when he woke, her soft curves in his arms, he’d curl around her even tighter all the while telling himself that he would never lay a finger on her in lust again.Because it was just lust, he reminded himself. He’s not in love with her."When Ben Solo moves to Paris to escape his past, he doesn't expect to meet Rey.When Rey moves to Paris to find her place in life, she doesn't expect to meet Ben.But when they do, their lives will never be the same again.A story of love, loss, and second chances.
Relationships: Ben Solo/Paige Tico, Finn/Rey (Star Wars), Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Original Male Character
Comments: 194
Kudos: 175





	1. London: Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here it is again.
> 
> Pressed has been a labour of love for me, and I got it wrong the last time: I wrote something so personal that I couldn't bear other people to look at it. 
> 
> But 2020 has been a strange old year, and I had an epiphany of sorts where this story is concerned. I wanted to re-write it the way I'd always pictured it, without holding back on anything at all, and I want to self-publish it after all the people who loved it the first time around have a chance to read it in its complete form (it is complete now).
> 
> So, I'll upload this chapter by chapter over the next few months, and then take it down a few weeks after the final chapter is uploaded.
> 
> There are some changes from the first version. This time, Rey has a background. This time, Leia and Han are gone, and Ben has a sister, Jaina (I read all the old expanded universe novels and she just fits this story so well). Armitage and Poe are no longer Armitage and Poe (the Armie character from the original Pressed was transferred into 'Wanting', and I didn't want to replicate him here). Don't worry, they still make an appearance... but its different. I hope its better.
> 
> The first chapter of this story is Ben/Paige. I always hinted in the original Pressed that Ben had lost someone in the past, and that is shown here. I will add trigger warnings for the chapters where Ben experiences the London bombings of 2005. 
> 
> Well, on we go. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who messaged me about this story. I always intended on putting it up here when it was done, and I hope those who have thought about it long after I took it down get some closure with this.
> 
> Any questions you can get me on twitter @minkel231
> 
> Much love,
> 
> S.x

**PART ONE**

**Chapter One**

**July, 2005**

**London**

There was a buzzing in his head and a buzzing in his ears and he turned, arms reaching out for warmth and soft skin. Paige murmured incomprehensibly as he pulled her towards him, nuzzling his face into her neck and breathing in the smell of sleep-warm skin on cotton sheets. It was comforting and pleasurable and arousing all at once, and he ran a hand along the curve of her hip, kissing her bare shoulder.

‘Mmm,’ she mumbled, tilting her face towards his. ‘Ben. Turn the alarm off.’

He grinned, reaching across the bed to the clock and pressing on the snooze button so that their room was blissfully, though temporarily, rendered quiet once more. 

‘Morning,’ he whispered, pulling his arm back and wrapping himself around her again. She cuddled into him, her fringe in her eyes, and he brushed it to one side gently. 

He’d always loved Paige’s hair. It was the first thing he’d noticed about her, back in college, and even now, five years later, he still loved to play with the dark bob that just brushed her shoulders. Running a hand over her head, he threaded his finger through her hair, and watched, fascinated, as the strands settled on her pillow, black and glossy like fine threads of silk. He did it again, enjoying the sensation of smooth hair against his fingertips, and she sighed happily. 

‘Morning,’ he said again, letting his hand drift to her waist. 

‘Is it already?’ Paige asked, stretching in his arms. ‘I’m pretty sure we only just went to sleep.’

‘Well, that’s our fault for staying up late and partying,’ he replied, kissing her softly. 

She opened her eyes and smiled at him. ‘Worth it though. What a night, hey?’

‘Mmm,’ he agreed. ‘It was a great evening. Though I particularly liked the last part myself,’ he added, giving her behind a gentle squeeze. 

She laughed, shifting away from his hands. ‘We have to get to work,’ she told him, groaning slightly. ‘It’s gonna be a busy news day... I can feel it in my bones.’

‘Yeah,’ he agreed. ‘But we’ve got five minutes. I just heard Armitage disappear into the shower.’

Paige groaned again, throwing an arm over her face. ‘You mean we have twenty minutes then. God, but he takes forever. How one man can own that many hair products is a mystery to me,’ she said irritably. ‘I’m definitely going to be late now.’ 

‘All the better for me,’ Ben remarked, feeling a tug of happiness as Paige snuggled into him, allowing his fingers to resume their slow exploration of her skin. 

He heard her give a content sigh. ‘That feels nice,’ she said breathily, ‘but you know something? I think next time we need to get a place of our own. No more roommates.’

His fingers stilled over her stomach and he stared at her. ‘What? You think we should get our own place?’

Paige stared back, her brown eyes honest and unassuming. ‘I think so,’ she admitted. ‘We’ve been together a few years now. I know our lives are a little unsettled at the moment… our training and internships... I know we move around a lot…’ she smiled at him. ‘But yeah, I think we’re ready.’

He nodded. ‘I think we are too,’ he said. ‘We only have a couple of months left in London. Maybe when we get back to New York, you could think about moving into my place.’

At that, she gave a gentle snort, looking at him quizzically. ‘Me? On the Upper West Side? Come on, Ben, I’m hardly that kind of girl.’

He sighed, running a hand over her hair again. ‘We don’t earn much, Pay. Not yet, anyway. It’d be a cheap place to stay until we can afford to branch out on our own.’

‘Ben…’

‘Come on,’ he argued. ‘It was my Mom’s place. She left it to me. We don’t have to stay there long. Just until we have the funds to get a place more suited to… our needs.’

Quiet settled across the room while Paige pondered his words. He watched her while she thought, seeing her lips pull into a frown, her forehead creasing slightly. Around her eyes he could see a smudge of yesterday’s make-up, her lashes still thick with mascara and eyeshadow. She’d never been great at cleansing before bed, especially after a night like they’d just had, preferring instead to simply collapse into bed and sleep off the alcohol. The first night Ben ever spent with her, he’d woken to see her dishevelled on his pillow, her lipstick smeared, her skin patchy and her eyes streaked with eyeliner. He’d thought it adorable, and it was as though he’d been granted a glimpse at her, the real her, under all the cosmetics she wore. He fell in love with Paige Tico a little more in that moment, and then a little more again when she woke and didn’t immediately flee from his room to correct her appearance. Instead, she’d let him make her a coffee, and they’d sat in bed drinking from his cracked mugs while discussing her upcoming chemistry exam.

‘We’re journalism students,’ he’d almost laughed at her. ‘I don’t why you’re even taking a chemistry module.’

But Paige had only shrugged. ‘You take adjectives and nouns and can make a sentence,’ she’d explained. ‘Take chlorogenic acid and tannins and you can make coffee. I just like knowing how things are put together, is all.’

Now, she was still frowning, and Ben tugged at her hair.

‘What is it?’ he asked.

‘It’s just…’ she started slowly. ‘Look, we’re both journalists. We don’t earn much. We might never earn much.’

‘People love your work,’ Ben immediately argued. ‘Everything you’ve written about Afghanistan and Pakistan… it’s solid work, Pay. One day your earnings will reflect that.’

‘Maybe,’ Paige replied, her voice frank. ‘But then, maybe not. I’m just worried if we move into your place – together – just until we make enough money to branch out on our own… well, I’m worried we might never move out.’

‘Would that be so bad?’ Ben asked. ‘I own that place. It’s mine. My mother wanted me to use it. And she was crazy about you. She would’ve been delighted to know we were sharing it.’

‘I know,’ Paige agreed. She rolled onto her back, her eyes drifting over the water stains on their ceiling. ‘It’s just… your family’s lifestyle. Their wealth. It’s not me, Ben. I’ll never be the kind of girl who fits in with them. I’ll never be an Upper West Side type.’

There was a sudden sadness to her voice which struck Ben hard, and he stared at her.

‘I don’t want you to be a… a type, Pay,’ he said earnestly. ‘Any type. Any kind. I only ever want you to be you.’

‘You say that now,’ she replied, her fingers moving over their frayed bedding, pulling absently at a loose thread. ‘But you’re a Skywalker. Your family own one of the most popular magazines in the United States. One day, you’re gonna want a girl who fits in with that image.’

‘My mother didn’t,’ Ben argued. ‘My Mom didn’t fit in with any… any image. She was an investigative journalist, just like us. When she married my Dad, she poured all her energy into creating The Liberal Statesmen. She wasn’t an Upper West Side type either.’

Paige said nothing, her face thoughtful, and in the absence of words, Ben hauled her into his arms. She was slight in his arms, and he could just feel the faint beat of her heart through his chest. 

‘Paige,’ he whispered, letting his lips drift over her cheek and ear. ‘Pay, please. We’re ready for this, you and me. We’re ready for the next step.’

‘Ben, I just don’t know if -’

Abruptly, he kissed her, as though he could cover her hesitation with love, as if he could swallow her refusal with his lips. When he pulled back, still cupping her face in his hands, he smiled at her.

‘It’s you and me, Pay. It’s always gonna be you and me.’ 

For a moment she looked into his eyes, meeting them squarely and without reservation. She never pulled any punches, Paige. Everything you saw with her was what you got, and Ben, who’d been raised to question everything, knew he never needed to query her. She was always frank, always honest, the brightest light in every room, and Ben adored her.

So, when she nodded very slightly, the movement so minute and imperceptible that Ben wondered if she’d even really answered him at all, he peered at her. He tilted her face to hold his gaze, and stared into her eyes.

‘Was that a yes?’ he asked, and she gave him a small smile.

‘Yes,’ she confirmed quietly. ‘But only until we earn enough to find somewhere of our own, okay?’

Ben hugged her to him, sighing contentedly. ‘I promise.’

He wanted to hold her longer. He wanted to kiss her and strip the singlet from her body and make love to her. But she wriggled against him, almost impatiently.

‘I need to go shower,’ she said. ‘Armitage is finished and - ’

‘No, five more minutes,’ Ben protested, holding her tighter. 

‘I’ll be late,’ she wriggled again, trying to escape his grasp. ‘Ben, I mean it, I’ll be late - ’

He kissed her anyway, before releasing her. Giving him an exasperated smile as she stood, she wrapped a towel around her waist.

‘You’ll be late too,’ she warned him, but he only shrugged.

‘Hey, my office runs on New York time. I’ve got a few hours yet before they’ll expect any work outta me.’

‘You and I both know that’s a lie, Ben Solo, but by all means, you tell Jaina that when she calls you later to ask where your article is.’

She leaned over the bed, kissing him, and he parted his lips, dragging her closer to deepen the embrace. Her body softened in his arms, and the towel around her body dropped to the floor.

‘I’ll tell Jaina we’ll be home soon to take up residence in Mom’s old apartment,’ Ben grinned. ‘She won’t care about my article then.’

Paige let out a breathy moan as Ben lowered her back onto their bed, kissing his way from her neck down to her stomach. ‘Your Mom’s old apartment,’ she repeated, almost ruefully. ‘This is gonna spoil my image, Ben.’

Ben paused, sitting up on his knees suddenly and grinning at her. ‘Spoil your image? Well, in that case, you might as well have this too and go all the way.’

He reached out again, opening his bedside drawer and fumbling through the books, paperwork and long forgotten receipts to pull out a small box. Leaning back over Paige, he handed it to her wordlessly, grinning as her eyes grew wide.

‘Ben…’

‘Open it,’ he urged her.

‘I don’t know if I want to, if this is what I think it is.’

He kissed her shoulder, nudging the box in her hands. ‘Let me tell you now: it is what you think it is. Open it.’

He watched as Paige tentatively opened the box. His mother’s ring, snug inside, glinted in the morning light and Paige inhaled sharply.

‘Ben…’ she said again, before trailing off, looking at the ring in her hands. Ben smiled, unable to remember the last time he’d seen Paige lost for words. Somehow, he had a feeling this was the first time. She was a writer, like him, and words were their currency. He warmed at the thought that for the first time, she had nothing to say, no words to offer.

‘We’re ready for this,’ he told her, his voice serious. ‘You know we are, Pay. I keep telling you, you and me, we’re forever. You know we are. There’s nothing that can come between us.’

In her silence, he pulled the ring from the box and slipped it onto her finger. She stared at it, seemingly frozen with shock. He kissed her, running a hand over her hair once more.

‘You gonna say yes?’ he asked. ‘Or did I take this morning off for no reason?’

‘You’ve been planning this?’ Paige looked at him, clearly stunned.

‘Yep,’ he replied proudly. ‘Actually, I was gonna ask you last night, but we drank too much and then… well…’ he shrugged. ‘This morning seemed as good a time as any, I guess.’

Paige smiled, touching the ring, shifting it on her long fingers.

‘Call work,’ he nudged her again. ‘Take the day off. We’ll go and get lunch somewhere nice.’

But Paige shook her head, still staring at the ring. ‘I actually can’t,’ she said blankly. ‘I’ve got a meeting with a Professor of Middle Eastern studies over at the University of London this morning. But after that…’ she smiled, kissing him, before rolling him onto his back and straddling him. He felt his body respond eagerly, and he leaned forward, biting down on her shoulder. ‘Wait for me here?’ Paige asked, and he settled back down on the bed, pulling her with him.

‘Ten minutes,’ he told her, kissing her shoulder again. ‘Just give me ten minutes.’

She moaned against him. ‘Ben, I’ll be late, the bus takes forever and - ’

But he stopped her words with another kiss, running a finger down her cheek and smiling at her.

‘So, don’t get the bus,’ he suggested, pinning her down. ‘Take the tube instead.’


	2. New York: Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the reason for Jaina was simple. I liked her in the expanded universe novels, and I always think the character of Ben Solo thrives best under a woman’s influence (not so much men - looking at you here, Luke Skywalker). 
> 
> I didn’t want another fic where I wrote Leia as the hard as nails businesswoman (covered that in The Sweetest Sign and Wanting), so, Jaina takes her place here.

**Chapter Two**

**New York, 2018**

She was naked on his bed, her hair sprawled across his sheets. It was a mass of red curls, soft and springy, and he stared at her, taking in all her strikingly beautiful but ultimately unfamiliar glory. A trickle of guilt ran down his spine, as it always did – as it probably always would - whenever he brought a woman to his home.

Any woman who wasn’t  _ her _ , that was.

‘Well,’ she said, her tone sultry and seductive. ‘Are you just going to stand there?’

He wasn’t even sure what her name was. She must have told him, must have mentioned it at least once. At the bar perhaps, or maybe on the taxi ride to his apartment.

_ Veronica,  _ he thought, as he lowered himself against her.  _ Or was it Vivian?  _ he wondered, as he pressed his lips to hers and dipped his tongue into her mouth.

She wrapped her legs around him, moaning wantonly, and he ground against her. She reached down for his belt buckle and he welcomed her fingers, awkward and unknown though they were.

It was so easy, too easy almost, to lose himself in sensation, to forget the past in flesh and blood and warmth and lazy kisses.

‘Ben,’ she moaned against his neck, and he startled at hearing his name from her lips.

Her lips, lined with pencil and filled in expertly with colour, like a living paint-by-numbers. Her lips, red and soft and welcoming, but not quite the taste or texture he desired. Her lips, so different to  _ hers - _

What was her name? Ben thought hard, even as he licked a stripe up her neck. He recalled buying her a drink, a sickly-sweet concoction, expensive and colourful, that he could still taste on her tongue. He remembered dancing with her, his hand creeping low on her back. He had a vague memory of lazily propositioning her, using all the usual pretty words and easy phrases.

_ Valerie,  _ he decided, as she pulled him free of his underwear and gripped him hard.  _ Definitely Valerie. _

Afterwards, while they lay in a post-coital haze, his phone chirped noisily. He glanced at it quickly, his interest piqued when he saw  _ unknown number _ flashing across the screen. It was 11pm, which made it what? 4am in London?

_ Too early,  _ he thought, deciding to ignore it. He tossed the phone to one side, turning his attention back to Valerie.

Or was she Vanessa?

‘Again?’ She smirked, her leg hooking around his waist.

He shrugged. ‘Why not?’

Because why not indeed. It wasn’t like they were hurting anyone, after all. 

As he pressed Vanessa into the mattress, he saw his phone ring again. 

_ Unknown number. _

4am in London. Far too early for her to be-

But he squashed that thought quickly, hating that every time his phone rang, he immediately thought of  _ her.  _ Of where she was and what she might be doing.

Of who she might be with. __

_ You need to forget her,  _ he told himself sternly, as he pushed into the pulsing warmth of Vanessa’s body.  _ You need to let her go. _

_ *** _

It was bitterly cold that morning, the first few flakes of winter snow beginning to fall. Ben shrugged further into his coat, holding the door open for Vanessa, giving her a small smile as he ushered her from the warmth of the lobby into the cold New York air.

She smiled back, a blush on her cheeks. ‘Last night was fun,’ she said coyly.

‘Yes,’ he agreed, internally praying that she wasn’t going to be one of  _ those  _ girls.

‘We should do this again,’ she decided, and he paused, running a hand through his hair with a silent groan. So, she  _ was _ going to be one of those girls. Perfect.

‘Actually, Vanessa, I think that we -’

‘Natasha.’

‘What?’

‘My name is Natasha.’ Her voice was sharp, suddenly as cold as the snow falling fast around them.

‘Right, of course, well then... _ Natasha _ ,’ he made sure to properly enunciate the name. ‘Last night was great, but you know -’

‘Oh fuck,’ Natasha exhaled, her cheeks red. ‘Not this speech again! Fuck! What is it with men? So, what is it with you? Not looking for a relationship? Trouble with commitment? Or are you emotionally not in a great space right now?’ She paused, her hands on her hips. ‘Or are you already involved? What is it? An understanding girlfriend? Or maybe you’re hiding a wedding ring in your pocket and -’

It was like a slap to his face and he stiffened. Natasha, her eyes sharp, looked at him with renewed disgust. 

‘You’re  _ married _ ?’ She spat. ‘You’re fucking married?’

She reached forward before he could stop her, slipping a hand into his coat, her fingers searching until they came across the tell-tale circle deep in his pocket. She seized the ring, pulling it out and holding it up to the light.

Just a cheap band of copper and lead, the colours dull from years of neglect. But his heart still pounded at the sight of it in Natasha’s manicured hand.

‘You utter creep,’ she snarled, turning the band back and forth.

‘No, wait-’ he started. Quite frankly, he didn’t care what Natasha thought of him. She could think whatever she wanted. She could hate him, hurl abuse at him, denounce him to all and sundry. But God damn, if anything happened to that ring...

‘Just give it back,’ he pleaded. ‘Please.’

With one more look of complete and utter disdain, Natasha shook her head, throwing the ring at his feet.

‘I feel sorry for your wife,’ she snapped as she turned away, her heels clicking in time with her indignation.

Ben reached down, retrieving the ring with a relieved sigh. He allowed himself one final caress of the band, before tucking it back into a deep corner of his pocket, safe again once more.

Safe, but hidden away, as always.

He hailed a taxi, rubbing his eyes as he settled into the seat of the car. 

So, Natasha felt sorry for his wife. Ben sighed.

Because sometimes, when he couldn’t help himself, he felt sorry for her too. 

***

Ben’s office was warm when he walked in, so he put his coat on a hanger and flung his scarf into the corner. He noted with surprise the cup of steaming hot coffee on his desk, reminding himself to thank his secretary for it later. She was relatively new; older and slightly sour-faced, she’d been handpicked for him by Jaina, and seemed as disapproving and disappointed in him as his sister perpetually was.

‘She won’t bring me my coffee,’ he’d complained, but Jaina hadn’t even looked up from her desk.

‘Good, get your own.’

‘She doesn’t like me,’ he’d carried on. ‘She won’t pass on my messages, won’t get my dry-cleaning, won’t pick up my - ’

‘She’s a secretary, not a dogsbody, Ben,’ Jaina said, her head still buried in her work.

‘I need the help,’ Ben snapped. ‘I’m a busy man, I have an intensive career and - ’

At that, Jaina had looked up. ‘Stop,’ she said, holding up her hand. ‘Just stop.’ She stood, gazing at him evenly. ‘I have been offering you help for years now, Ben. I really have. But you’ve been content to do your own thing, get through your pain on your own and you know what? I’m done. I’m done with it. I absolutely agree, you need help. You’ve needed help for a long time now. But it’s not the kind of help you’re asking for. You want a pretty girl in your office who’ll run your errands and get your coffee and go to dinner with you and eventually end up in your bed and -’

‘No, that’s not -’

‘I wasn’t finished,’ Jaina said, glaring at him. ‘I’m tired of your revolving door queue of administrators, Ben. I’m fed up of seeing fresh-faced college girls walk in with hope in their eyes and then watching them walk out a few months later, thoroughly jaded. I’m tired of you coming in late and skipping off early. I’m tired of you putting your dinner dates on my expense account. You want to use women to cover your pain?’ Jaina shrugged. ‘Fine, go ahead. But you can stop using  _ my staff  _ as those women.’

Ben stared at her, his mouth hanging open.

‘And get your own damn coffee,’ Jaina had finished, waving him away. ‘Have a little agency of your own.’

So, the coffee today was a pleasant surprise. Ben took two steps towards it, wrapping his hand around the cup, when his chair abruptly swivelled around to face him. Ben nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Jaina sitting there, her smile taut and face pinched, like a black widow spider waiting to make a kill.

‘Pleasant night?’ She asked tightly, her fingers tapping against the leather fabric of his armrest. Ben groaned as he flopped into the chair by the door, staring at her.

‘Yes.’

‘Well, well,’ Jaina carried on. ‘I’m going to take it from your I-don’t-give-a-toss hair styling and that delightful hickey on your neck that you spent the evening in the company of yet another charming, beautiful and available young lady?’

‘You know how deeply uncomfortable these conversations make me, but yes,’ Ben replied. ‘Natasha,’ he added as an afterthought, because damned if he’s going to let his sister know that he occasionally struggled to remember their names.

‘Natasha,’ Jaina repeated, raising an eyebrow. She pursed her lips and Ben sighed, because this was an old tell of hers, a sign of disappointment, tinged liberally with disdain.

‘Just say it, and get it over with, why don’t you?’ Ben said, reaching for the coffee once more.

‘Say what?’

‘Oh, your usual spiel about the women in my life,’ he replied, sipping his drink, and wincing at the initial bitter taste.

‘It’s sweet, how you think these women are ‘in your life’,’ Jaina gave him a tight smile. ‘You bed them like sex is an Olympic sport, and once you’ve earned your medal, climbed the podium and sung the national anthem, you ditch them and start the search for another partner.’

‘Even if I do, that’s my business, not yours,’ Ben shrugged, in a tone he hoped would end the conversation. ‘I don’t mess with the staff anymore, just like you asked.’ But still, Jaina leaned forward, resting her arms on his desk, her eyes icy. 

‘It becomes my business when it impacts on my business,’ she sniped. ‘Your Natasha must have been quite the spitfire in bed, because you failed to answer your phone last night, Benjamin.’

‘You didn’t call,’ Ben replied instantly. ‘I had two missed calls from an unknown number… and you know I don’t answer unknown numbers,  _ sister dearest _ .’

Jaina gave a wry smile. ‘Ah, yes, your fear of the unknown number. I suppose there’s too great a risk that lovers - past or present - might try to pin you down?’ she mused, with a raise of one impeccably shaped eyebrow. 

‘Something like that.’

‘Well, new rule. From now on you answer your Goddamn phone, regardless of time, regardless of date, regardless of caller. You missed an important message last night.’

‘Well,’ Ben raised an eyebrow of his own, because two could play at this game. ‘Next time don’t hide behind an anonymous caller ID. Then you can give me all the messages in the world.’

His sister leaned forward with a waspish smile on her face. ‘Ah, but it wasn’t me who tried to call you last night, Benjamin.’

Ben’s heart seemed to still, and he inhaled sharply, trying to hide his sudden discomfort. Because if it wasn’t Jaina calling him last night, then maybe it  _ was  _ -

‘You missed two calls from your new editor-in-chief last night,’ his sister said abruptly, interrupting his spiralling thoughts. ‘I know, because he called me first, and then, when he couldn’t get you, he called me again,’ her voice became brittle, and Ben could feel the annoyance rolling off her in palpable waves. ‘He’s a real conversationalist. Clearly an utter prick, but a prick who can talk. The perfect mix, really.’

‘Wait - what?’ Ben asked, sitting up. ‘What do you mean, new editor-in-chief? Jaina, _ you’re _ the editor-in-chief. What the hell are you talking about?’

Jaina’s face dropped slightly, her body sagging, as though dragged down by a terrible weight. ‘We’ve been bought out,’ she replied, her voice blank. ‘Hostile takeover, but the semantics don’t matter. The board voted in favour of  _ Dominion Corp.  _ I’m out, Ben.’

Ben stared at her. Jaina’s hair was unusually tinged with grey, her mouth looked lined and her eyes – normally so startlingly blue – seemed worn and dull. She was so familiar, and yet completely unrecognisable to him all at once. For while this was, without a doubt, Jaina Solo, his sister and CEO of Skywalker Publications, current editor in chief of  _ The Liberal Statesman,  _ businesswoman and noted philanthropist, the Jaina he knew personally seemed strangely absent in that moment. All her spark, all her vivacity, all the fire that burned perpetually inside of her had been snuffed out, as though she had been doused with cold water; without that flame of passion and energy, she looked tired, frightened, and lost.

She looked, Ben realised, like him. 

‘But you’re the board,’ he protested. ‘The Skywalker’s have owned this magazine since... what, the thirties? What do you mean, you’re out? You can’t be out, you own this damn place.’

‘No,’ Jaina corrected him. ‘Dad left forty-nine percent of the business to us, and fifty-one percent to  _ Qira _ ,’ his sister’s voice reverberated with the bitterness she still felt over the injustice of their father’s will, at being sidelined in favour of their younger, leggy step-mother. ‘Qira’s sold up,’ Jaina said with a sigh. ‘Gave the whole damn thing to Dominion Corp, right out from under us.’

Ben’s mouth dropped open. ‘But Qira always said she was happy for you to run Skywalker,’ he argued.

Jaina shrugged. ‘Clearly, she changed her mind.’ She looked up, giving Ben a sorrowful glance. ‘It’s my fault, Ben. I should have bought two or three percent from her years ago, right after Dad died, but I never thought anyone would want  _ The Liberal Statesman,  _ or  _ New Views,  _ or  _ Elegance,  _ or any of our publications. I thought we were too edgy, too left wing, too small to be of interest,’ she shrugged again, as if it were no matter. ‘I was wrong.’

‘Fuck,’ Ben exhaled. ‘Then I’m out too.’

‘You would think so, but no,’ Jaina gave him a wry smile. ‘Apparently the new buyer has read your work with great interest.  _ Going down with Ben Skywalker  _ is one of our most syndicated columns, and you are our biggest star. Sex always sells, Benjy,’ she sighed, raising her cup of coffee to the air in a silent toast. ‘My baby brother. I’m so proud.’

‘I can hear how much it hurt you to say that, Jaina.’

Jaina leaned back, regarding him thoughtfully. ‘You were such a good reporter, you don’t know even know how good you were, and - ’

Ben groaned. ‘Come on, not this again - ’

‘ - No, hear me out,’ Jaina continued. ‘You won an investigative journalism Pulitzer, Benjy. You worked in Afghanistan, Iraq, Iran and Somalia. You were brilliant, just like Mom, just like Dad, just like - ’

‘Please,’ Ben begged, ‘Please… don’t say it. Don’t say her name.’

Jaina’s face softened. ‘Why did you walk away, Ben? You had it all, and you loved it. No, don’t shake your head. You loved it, Benjamin, I know you did. You loved investigative journalism. I still don’t understand it. And the book you were writing... it was brilliant. It was cathartic for you. You should have finished it. I just can’t figure it out. Why trade something you loved for  _ Going Down with Ben Skywalker _ , that cheap piece of crap article I publish every month despite all my reservations?’

‘You know why,’ Ben said quietly, his breathing shallow, his hands clenched.

Jaina stared at him. ‘You can’t mean - ?’ she started, but Ben turned to face her, spinning on the spot almost violently.

‘Don’t say her name,’ he hissed. ‘I mean it. Don’t do this to me.’

‘Benjy, it’s been thirteen years,’ Jaina argued. ‘It’s time to stop hating yourself, time to stop thinking of her all the goddam time.’

Ben stood, the need for movement suddenly overwhelming. He went to the window, looking out over the New York skyline. 

‘ _ Going down with Ben Skywalker _ has made a lot of money for this magazine,’ he said, abruptly changing the subject.

He heard Jaina sigh. ‘Yes, that’s true,’ she admitted. She stood, walking over to Ben and handing him a Perspex file. ‘But Ben Skywalker also attracted this man to our door.’

Ben stared at the file in his hand. It was a fact sheet of information, with a headshot attached.

‘I know who this is,’ he said, thrusting it back at her.

‘Don’t we all,’ Jaina swore under her breath. ‘Duncan Snoke. The New Zealand born owner of  _ Dominion Corp _ .’

Ben glanced at her. ‘I thought he lived here now?’

Jaina nodded. ‘Yes, occasionally, although he tends to float from tax haven to tax haven these days. I met him at a press conference last year. Charming man,’ she added tightly. ‘He claimed to have swung the results of the last presidential election, as well as the Brexit vote. Spent fifteen minutes complaining about being forced to remove the naked women from one of his British rags,’ Jaina gazed at Snoke’s picture in her hand. ‘And this bastard just bought  _ The Liberal Statesman.  _ I never thought I’d see the day... Mom would spin in her grave if she knew.’

Ben felt a deep prickle of guilt. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, honestly and with feeling. He knew what  _ The Liberal Statesman  _ meant to Jaina. Knew what it had meant to their mother.  _ The Liberal Statesman  _ had been Leia Organa’s brainchild, after all, the third baby she’d never had. She’d poured her heart and soul into creating that magazine, worked night and day to produce a politically left publication that only just scraped a profit, and now Duncan Snoke had bought it. 

‘It’s not your fault,’ Jaina replied sharply. ‘You’re good at what you do, Benjy. Every word you write is liquid gold. I should’ve known that  _ Going Down with Ben Skywalker _ was going to do well. And of course, I should’ve known that that bastard Snoke would want a piece of it. It’s my fault, really. When you came back from Europe and suggested writing a sex-advice think piece column for  _ Elegance _ , I should’ve turned you down. But you were so hurt after - ’ Jaina paused, an unspoken name hovering on her lips.

Ben swallowed hard. ‘I know,’ he said, nodding.

‘It was just… you came back, finally came back, after all that time… and you…’ she paused. ‘You’d changed. You just seemed empty, so lost, without direction or drive and it was like… like you’d just turned off a switch or something and...’ Jaina drifted off with a sigh, nodding her head sadly. ‘I just wanted you to be happy. I’ve only ever wanted you to be happy.’

‘I am happy,’ Ben offered gently.

But Jaina shook her head, looking at him frankly. ‘No, you aren’t, Benjy. If you were happy, you wouldn’t still be writing this piece of shit column, bed-hopping from woman to woman, trying to blot out a past that you keep letting hurt you.’

There was nothing Ben could say to that, and so, for a moment, they stood in companionable silence. Finally, Jaina threw Snoke’s file onto his desk.

‘Will he make himself editor?’ Ben asked his sister. ‘Duncan Snoke?’

‘No,’ Jaina’s reply was firm. ‘He owns and he interferes, but he never manages. I’m told he hires a new stooge every few years to edit his papers and magazines. Your new editor-in-chief – who will be based in London, by the way, not here - is a man named Armitage Hux.’

‘Armitage Hux?’ Ben‘s heart froze within his chest, sweat breaking out over his skin. ‘Armitage Hux?’

‘Indeed,’ Jaime said viciously. ‘He’s the current editor of  _ Gloss  _ magazine. Looks like butter wouldn’t melt, but I know a power-hungry wolf when I see one. He’s earned himself a big fat promotion with this takeover, and he’ll be out for blood – my blood, specifically – to prove to Snoke that he can handle the job.’

‘I know him,’ Ben admitted quietly. ‘We’ve met before.’

_ Paige’s skin was slippery under the water, and Ben watched as she closed her eyes under the head of the shower. He ducked his head onto her shoulder as he rubbed the shampoo into her hair, breathing in the smell of fresh mint and apple, and felt Paige grin against him. _

_ ‘Don’t tell Hux,’ she whispered, ‘he’ll kill us if he thinks we’ve used one of his products again.’ _

_ And Ben smiled back at the shared joke, pulling the naked woman closer against him. _

‘How?’ Jaina asked curiously. ‘How do you know him?’

Ben swallowed down the lump that had inexplicably risen in his throat. ‘It doesn’t even matter,’ he said, his voice hoarse. ‘I won’t work for him. Or Snoke.’

‘Benjy...’

‘No, listen to me, Jaina.  _ The Liberal Statesman  _ has always been an Skywalker magazine, and I’m a Skywalker. Duncan Snoke can buy the magazine all he wants. He doesn’t buy me.’

Jaina chewed on her lip. ‘Look, Benjy, Snoke is a powerful man to say no to. Walking away from Duncan Snoke could end your career,’ she glanced at him. ‘Well, what’s left of it, anyway.’

Ben nodded. ‘I know. But I’m serious. I won’t write for him.’

‘Well, who will you write for?’ Jaina asked curiously. ‘He owns seventy percent of the American media. Well, if you count us, seventy-five now,’ she added ruefully.

Ben paused. All his life, he’d only ever written for himself, or for Skywalker. He’d never wanted to write for anyone else, though he’d had several offers, most of them from  _ Dominion Corp  _ publications. 

‘I’ve only ever written for Dad and you,’ he mused out loud. ‘I don’t really want to change that.’

Jaina gave a bitter laugh. ‘I told you Benjy, I’m out. I’ve given my all to Skywalker, worked myself to the bone for our publications,’ she clenched her fists. ‘All for nothing, it would seem.’

‘We still own forty-nine percent,’ Ben reminded her.

Jaina shrugged. ‘That’s not enough to wield any real power. As things stand, we might as well own zero. This was my life’s work, Benjy. All gone.’

Ben nodded. After their mother’s death, Jaina had dropped out of college to assist their father in the running of Skywalker. She’d shuffled their staff and relaunched their magazines, working every hour of the day to make Skywalker Publications a profitable entity. When their father had retired – walking off into the sunset of his life with a shiny new wife on his arm – Jaina had simply stepped into his shoes and picked up where he’d left off. Now, at forty-six, she was unmarried and childless, happiest when in the office. A spinster, Ben had once laughed at her, but she’d rounded on him with a venom.

‘I’m wedded to my work, you ass,’ she’d spat at him. ‘And the only babies I need are made from high gloss paper, so I’ll thank you to close that trap of yours.’

Ben stared at his sister, an idea suddenly occurring to him. ‘Hey Jaina,’ he started slowly. ‘Why don’t you start another magazine? We’re the Skywalkers, after all, we have the name, the money, the connections…’

Jaina gave him a sad smile. ‘Didn’t anyone tell you that printed media is a dying industry? Starting a whole new magazine…’ she paused. ‘It would be a very expensive undertaking. And a risky one too... it’s practically guaranteed to fail.’

Ben considered her words. ‘So, we don’t print it,’ he offered. ‘We go online only.’

‘Benjy…’

‘Look, you’ve always talked about how the e-format is the next big thing for magazines. Why not start one? Blogs, thought pieces, opinions, polls… it could be amazing, Jaina.’

Jaina stared at him sceptically.

‘Does it hurt to try? You and I between us…’ Ben trailed away with a sigh. ‘We have nothing to lose.’

‘That’s not true. We could lose vast sums of money,’ Jaina replied, practical as always.

Ben shrugged. ‘So? We can go limited. Besides, we have too much money as it is. You remember what Mom said, don’t you? She always told us that it was wrong for people…’

‘…to have too much wealth,’ Jaina finished. She sat back at his desk, drumming her fingers on the glass thoughtfully. ‘I don’t know, Benjy.’

‘Mom would have done it,’ Ben offered slyly.

‘Don’t throw Mom at me like that,’ Jaina replied, though she smiled at him.

‘Fine,’ Ben pointed at the Perspex file beside her, to the picture of the leering Duncan Snoke. ‘Don’t do it for Mom. Do it because it’ll piss him off.’

Jaina met his eyes, nodding her head. ‘You’re right. A new magazine, online format,’ now, she really smiled, and Ben felt relief flood through him. Her spark was back, her fire relit. ‘ _ Intransigence,  _ maybe,’ she mused. ‘No, that’s not quite what I was thinking of... wait, how about this?  _ Defiance… _ a magazine for the new millennial. Ethically aware, emotionally empowered, environmentally concerned.’

‘ _ Defiance? _ ’ Ben grinned. ‘Yeah, I love it. You already sound excited.’

Jaina nodded, but still, she looked at him worriedly. ‘Yes, but Snoke won’t be happy. He thought in buying our magazines he would get access to Ben Skywalker. There’s a board meeting later today with Hux and some of his staff from the London office...’

‘What? Already?’

‘This was a hostile takeover, Benjy,’ Jaina explained. ‘Snoke must have had this planned for months. The British team landed yesterday, before I even was told about the sale, and they’ve probably been briefed extensively on what to expect. We’re at a real disadvantage, and when they find out you aren’t going to come with this deal...’

But Ben almost laughed.

‘What’s the worst can he do?’ he asked easily. ‘I’m a Skywalker, Jaina. I work for us. And this man, this Duncan Snoke... there’s nothing in the world that can tempt me to work for him.’ He smiled confidently. ‘He’d have to offer me the sun himself to get me to work for  _ Dominion Corp.  _ And no man, Jaina, can bottle pure sunshine.’ Ben smiled again. ‘Or, any woman.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going to try and get the first few chapters up this weekend so we can get to the first crux point.


	3. Pressed Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... it’s ‘Wanting’ Armitage, isn’t it? I honestly can’t help it. I just love him.

**Chapter Three**

With a start, Rey Johnson sat bolt upright in her bed, wondering where the hell she was and what that bloody awful noise could be. 

‘Finn,’ she murmured sleepily, burrowing her head under her pillow, trying to block out the noise. ‘Finn, make it stop.’

But the noise continued unabated, and Rey groaned, realising that her flatmate was not going to come to her aid. 

Of course he wasn’t. How could he? They were four thousand miles away from their shared flat in Hammersmith, and he was three rooms down the hall in this hotel, rather than in the room next to hers as usual. For once, Rey would have to solve her own problems, and right now, ensconced in this dark hotel room, that problem was the pulsing beat of her alarm and -

Damn, her alarm. Rolling over, Rey grabbed hold of her offending mobile, frantically swiping at the screen until the phone stopped screeching, the room becoming blissfully quiet once more. Through bleary eyes, she looked at the time.

Eleven am London time, which made it… what? Six in the morning here? Rey threw her phone to one side, without bothering to check. She didn’t need to check. She never needed to check. When it came to the time difference between GMT and EST, she knew the hour automatically, almost like it had been programmed into her system. Every time her phone rang, early in the morning or late at night, she would instinctively do a quick calculation, mentally working out if it was too early or too late to be him. She’d tried in vain to break herself of the habit, telling herself that it was a pointless exercise, that the time in New York didn’t matter, that the time difference between them didn’t matter.

Because she didn’t matter, did she? Not to him.

Not anymore. 

He’d stopped calling a long time ago, Rey reminded herself. And the only person she was hurting in holding onto a small nugget of hope that one day, maybe one day, she’d answer her phone and hear his voice again, was herself.

She swung her legs out of bed, stumbling into the hotel bathroom and staring in the mirror. She looked tired, almost haggard, the result of a bad case of jetlag and one too many margaritas the night before. She could thank Finn Okereke and Armitage Hux for that. As soon as their plane had touched down at JFK she’d become a bundle of nerves, her eyes glancing furtively from side to side, taking in the people around them, her mind working overtime. She found her eyes lingering on a man ahead of her, tall and broad, his head down.  _ That could be him,  _ she’d thought instantly. Another man to her right, his hair dark and worn long over his ears, made her inhale sharply.  _ Or him. _

She felt stricken with anxiety and yet oddly hopeful all at once, and her hands shook as she collected her luggage, her heart racing as the taxi pulled away from the airport and the New York City skyline came into view.

She wasn’t supposed to be here, she’d thought guiltily. She’d promised him she wouldn’t ever set foot in this city again.

‘You can have London, I’ll have New York,’ he’d thrown at her, on that final, fateful night, and she’d been too hurt, too bewildered and heartsore, to fight him on the issue.

Armitage, with the razor-sharp scrutiny that had made him editor-in-chief at _Gloss_ magazine at just thirty-four years of age, noticed Rey’s discomfort straightaway.

‘You’re shaking like a leaf, Rey,’ he’d said, giving her a sideways glance. ‘God, you’re not…  _ on anything,  _ are you?’

‘No,’ Rey had replied. ‘I almost wish I was.’

‘What’s up, Sunflower?’ Finn asked, turning instantly to her, his voice rich with concern.

Rey only shrugged, careful to keep her eyes blank. ‘Nothing’s up. I just don’t like New York.’

Armitage rolled his eyes. ‘You’ll like it more after we hit the hotel bar, I promise.’

‘The hotel bar?’ Rey saw Finn give Armitage an almost askance look. ‘We have the Skywalker takeover meeting tomorrow morning… are you sure drinking tonight is a good idea?’

‘I’ve been prepping for this meeting for two months now,’ Armitage replied, his voice sharp. ‘And I just spent an eight-hour flight up to my eyeballs in Dominion Corp and Skywalker Publication paperwork. All I want now is a hot shower and an expense account pitcher of margaritas.’

He was good to his word. As soon as the three were ensconced at the bar, showered and somewhat refreshed, Armitage ordered pitcher after pitcher of cocktails, plying Rey with booze until she’d been unable to walk and they’d had to put her to bed, like a wayward child.

‘Will she be okay tomorrow?’ she’d heard Armitage say through ears full of alcohol induced cotton wool, and she’d seen Finn grin as he tucked a blanket around her.

‘Yeah. She never can hold her booze. It’s always the same. After one drink she’s fine, two she’s okay, if a little morose, but by three?’ He chuckled. ‘Three drinks and she starts speaking and singing in French.’ Rey felt Finn reach down and squeeze her fingers, warm and comforting. ‘She’s really cute when she gets like that.’

‘God,’ Armitage’s disdain was evident. ‘So, what happens if she has more than three?’ he then asked, and Rey felt Finn disentangle his fingers from her own, felt him stand and then gesture to her on the bed.

‘This.’

Now, Rey splashed some water on her face while starting the shower, rummaging through her toiletries bag for her toothbrush and shampoo. 

It was a big day, she reminded herself. If today went well, she would really cement her role at  _ Dominion Corp _ , and would go back to London with a real bargaining chip to use in why she should be allowed away from  _ Gloss  _ magazine and into investigative journalism at one of their more newsworthy papers. 

Rey stepped into the shower with a sigh. It wasn’t that she didn’t like writing  _ Ask me Anything _ , and she certainly wasn’t squeamish writing about sex. In fact, she was damned good at it. So damn good at it that she was one of  _ Dominion Corp _ ’s most syndicated columnists. So damn good that Armitage confessed he would have to be stupid to let her go. So damn good that Snoke was never, ever going to let her leave a goldmine article for investigative journalism at one of his newspapers. And it galled Rey to admit that her talent with words may have cost her her dream, that she would forever be at  _ Gloss,  _ writing lipstick and sex tips and celebrity news. 

But no. It wasn’t over yet. Rey stood taller, washing her hair with more vigour. When a space had unexpectedly opened up on the Skywalker takeover team, Armitage had asked Rey if she was up to the role.

‘You’re young and well turned out and you can do the languages thing,’ Armitage had surmised, sitting on Rey’s desk primly. ‘You should come with me to New York.’

Rey had swallowed hard. ‘New York?’

‘Yes,’ Armitage inspected his immaculately manicured nails. ‘Tall place, big city. You might have heard of it.’

Rey blushed. ‘Well, yes, I know, but…’ she chewed on her lip. ‘You really want me to come to New York for the Skywalker merger talks?’

Armitage sighed. ‘Actually, I don’t. Not really. Louise from features was meant to come, but she fell off her horse at the weekend, the silly cow, and she’s currently laid up in bed with a broken leg,’ Armitage rolled his eyes, as though Louise had deliberately broken her leg to make life difficult for him. ‘Now I’m down a team member, and I need someone who can speak French.’

‘French? I didn’t know Skywalker was French-owned?’ Rey queried.

Armitage shrugged. ‘It’s not. But the current CEO has a place in Paris, and I’ve heard she’s not above speaking in foreign languages during meetings to get one-up on her competitors. I want to go prepared, so... enter you. Besides,’ he added. ‘Finn’s coming... so, you know. You’ll have a friend there.’

‘You mean Finn my roommate?’

‘Well, in this instance he’ll be there as Finn, my assistant, but yes. It was him who suggested you for this role to me. So, check your passport and pack your bags. We fly in two days.’ 

Rey rinsed the shampoo from her hair, applying a liberal layer of conditioner. She might’ve come to New York as a last-minute addition to help with the  _ Dominion Corp- Skywalker Publications  _ merger, but she knew a chance when she saw one. And this was her chance to prove to Armitage and Snoke that she wasn’t just  _ Ask me Anything _ , sex columnist extraordinaire, but also Rey Johnson, serious journalist. 

She grit her teeth. She wouldn’t give up her writing dreams. Not for anything.

Not when she’d lost one dream in her life already.

Finn knocked on her door at 7.30, looking so good that Rey groaned. It wasn’t just his perfectly coiffed hair, or that beautiful skin, so smooth she could lick it, or even those pearls of white teeth visible beneath a fifty-watt smile... no, Finn looked amazingly on the ball, utterly pristine and as though he’d never seen a margarita before in his life. 

If he hadn’t been holding out a hot cup of coffee for her, she would have slammed the door in his perfect face.

‘Morning Sunflower!’ he sang, pressing the cup into her hand. ‘Ready to show the folk at  _ Skywalker Publications  _ just why this merger is the best thing to ever happen to them?’

‘No,’ she said miserably. 

‘You look like hell,’ Finn remarked pleasantly, sipping his own drink. 

‘Jetlag,’ she murmured, gulping at her coffee, relishing the bitter liquid on her tongue. It tasted of morning and the promise of caffeine, and she hoped it hit her bloodstream soon, making the cobwebs of the previous evening fall away. 

‘It’s lunchtime at home, honey,’ Finn reminded her gently. ‘You should be wide awake and bouncing. We set the meeting for this time so that we would all be on our best game.’

‘Well, I might have been, if two people  _ whose names I won’t mention  _ hadn’t poured margarita after margarita down my neck last night.’

Finn held up his hands in a mock gesture of indignation. ‘From the time our plane left the tarmac at Heathrow to that first margarita at the hotel bar, you were so pale-faced you were almost ashen. You looked like and acted like you needed a good drink. And I’m a good friend, so I supplied.’ He frowned. ‘What’s up with you, anyway? Armitage wondered if maybe you had a fear of flying, but then I told him all about our trip to Mexico – you remember? The flight where you hit on the flight attendant - ’

‘No, you hit on the flight attendant,’ Rey interjected. ‘So far as I recall, I spent four hours watching you make puppy eyes at Miss Budget Airline 2017, calling her over constantly for criminally expensive bags of peanuts and miniature bottles of white wine.’

Finn grinned. ‘Oh yeah. She was fun.’

‘Did you ever see her again after that night?’

Finn shrugged, looking down to the floor. ‘No.’

Rey leaned back against the wall, taking another sip of coffee. ‘Not the right girl for you, hey?’ she asked.

At that, something in Finn’s face changed, and he looked back up at her, his eyes soft. ‘Guess not,’ he said quietly. Abruptly, he cleared his throat. ‘Anyway, Sunflower, you’re changing the subject. What’s up with you? Why are you acting so weird here?’

Rey stiffened. ‘I told you. I just don’t like New York.’

Finn leaned closer to her. ‘Bad experience?’

She shrugged. ‘Something like that. I don’t really want to talk about it, to be honest.’

Finn sighed. ‘You didn’t have to come, you know.’

‘You suggested to Armitage that I fill Louise’s role. I couldn’t let you down.’

‘Yeah, I suggested to Armitage that you come, but you didn’t have to say yes,’ Finn replied patiently. ‘You could’ve stayed in London, Rey. You know, if you’re that uncomfortable here, we could still get, I don’t know, Chloe or someone else to fill your place and -’

‘Don’t you dare,’ Rey said instantly. ‘I’m glad I’m here. This is my opportunity to prove that I’m serious about my work. That I’m more than just a sex columnist. If I do well on the panel for this merger, Armitage and Snoke might let me branch out into serious journalism.’

‘You’re already a serious journalist, honey.’

‘My last article was on how to stimulate a prostate with toys while performing the perfect blow job,’ Rey deadpanned. 

Finn gave a good-natured smirk. ‘Sunflower, to some people that is a serious issue.’

‘Finn, please don’t laugh at me,’ Rey begged. ‘I’m a serious writer. I want to be known for more than just sex and frivolity.’

‘Sex and frivolity?’ Finn repeated. He reached over, brushing a stray hair gently from her cheek. ‘You think that’s all you are? Honestly?’

‘Have you read my work?’

Finn smiled at her, nodding. ‘I’ve read your work,’ he told her. ‘I read everything you write, in fact. And you know something? For what you consider to be nothing more than a ‘frivolous’ article, you write about love and sex with a surprising amount of gentleness and compassion.’

Rey stared at him sceptically. ‘Really?’

‘Yes, really,’ Finn nodded. ‘Remember that woman who wrote in about her husband?’

Rey frowned. ‘Which one? There have been a few of those.’

‘The one a few months back… the one whose husband had never got over his first love…’

Rey thought for a moment. ‘Oh, yes, I remember her. What did we call her again?’

‘Restless Ruth,’ Finn supplied. ‘Restless Ruth wrote in because…’

‘She thought her husband was still head over heels for his first love, even though she’d been married to him for twenty years,’ Rey nodded. ‘Yes, I remember that one.’

‘You advised her, very kindly, to concentrate on what she had, and on the fact that her husband had chosen to marry her, rather than drive herself crazy thinking of this other woman,’ Finn gave Rey a warm smile. ‘You gave her good advice. And it was romantic, all that stuff you wrote about her being his choice, and his future, rather than just a figment of his past.’

Rey sighed, closing her eyes. ‘It was the sensible thing to say,’ she said, shrugging. ‘But you want to know something?’ she opened her eyes again, looking at Finn sadly. ‘I think her husband  _ was  _ still in love with his first girlfriend. And that’s the real love story, you know. The one who was first, the one who got away… that’s where the poignancy is, Finn, in what could-have-been. There’s no could-have-been in a marriage.’ Rey paused, concentrating on a straying thread in the carpet at her feet. ‘There’s no could have been… just what is, and most of it lacking.’

Finn gave a small laugh, nudging her arm gently. ‘For a single woman, you sound very jaded, Sunflower. And you might be wrong, you know. Look at your parents. Look at mine. There can be poignancy in marriage,’ he stepped closer to her, his voice lowering. ‘You just need to find the right person.’

But Rey shook her head at him. ‘No. Not for me.’

‘What do you mean?’ Finn asked. He was still close to her, so close she could inhale the scent of his cologne, strong and reassuring even above the cloying hotel smells of air freshener and bleach. He frowned at her. ‘You mean you never want to get married?’

Rey shrugged, letting her eyes drift from Finn to the length of the hotel corridor behind him. It was long and dark, a hundred doors to a hundred rooms, all devoid of personality and soul but jammed with unknown history.  _ He _ could be behind any of those doors, Rey suddenly thought. He could have stayed here, could have slept on one of the queen beds, wrapped around a lover, or a girlfriend perhaps. Rey swallowed hard, concentrating on a supply cupboard in the distance, a dull hum emanating from within and echoing down the sterile hall. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. It was easier to hold onto this image than think of another.

Easier to concentrate on this moment than drift into the past.

Next to her, she felt Finn turn, following the path of her gaze.

‘Rey?’ he questioned. ‘You okay?’

‘Yes,’ she replied absently.

He looked at her with concern. ‘It’s just… you’re staring at a boiler room.’

She nodded.

Finn tugged on her arm. ‘Rey, this is a good hotel. I don’t think the heating’s going to give out anytime soon,’ he paused, before he cleared his throat. ‘But if it does, you don’t need to worry,’ he lowered his voice, and she felt his fingers begin to drift along her arm. ‘We could always keep each other warm.’

At that, Rey looked up. ‘What?’ she whispered.

Finn flushed. ‘Sorry, it was a bad joke, I just – Christ, Rey, you’ve gone white. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

Rey straightened, trying to pull herself together. She cleared her throat, giving Finn a small, false smile. ‘No, no, not a ghost,’ she said, hoping her voice sounded light. ‘But maybe the devil.’

‘The devil?’

Rey nodded over his shoulder and Finn turned, looking to where Armitage Hux was closing in on them. He groaned lightly, before immediately standing taller.

‘Morning, Armitage,’ he said, in the bright voice Rey knew he reserved for their boss. ‘You okay?’

‘I’ll be better when this merger meeting is wrapped up,’ Armitage replied, his voice cool. Immaculately tailored as always, his red hair brushed artfully to one side, he gave Rey a quick once over. ‘Hi Rey. So, how much more time do you need to get ready?’

‘I am ready.’

‘Oh,’ Armitage paused. ‘Oh… oh, you’re wearing that? Really?’ Armitage cocked his head to one side, pressing his lips together.

‘What’s wrong with it?’ Rey asked, looking down at the pencil skirt and blouse combination she’d picked out for the day. ‘It makes me look serious. Like a real journalist.’

‘Oh, Rey,’ Armitage smiled. ‘No, honey. It makes you look like a real journalist’s secretary.’

There was an awkward pause. Finn shot Rey a warning glance, while she glared back at him.

‘Thank you, Armitage,’ she finally replied, swallowing down her indignation with another swig of coffee. ‘I’ll keep that in mind today.’

Armitage gave her a small pat on the shoulder. ‘Oh, don’t look so down, Rey. You’re here as  _ Dominion Corp _ ’s resident sex expert, and as my translator, should the need come up. You don’t  _ need  _ to look serious. Not like me. No, you just need to be up and bright and looking like sex on legs... and anyone who saw you today would think you tried  _ really _ hard to fulfil that brief. Come on then,’ Armitage gave her smile that dripped with condescension. ‘The car is downstairs waiting. Let’s go and show those  _ Liberal Statesman  _ writers what a British invasion really means.’

***

The journey to the  _ Skywalker Publication  _ offices was slow in the early Manhattan traffic. Armitage pulled out his mobile, sending frantic messages, but Finn reached over, closing his wide palm over his and stopping his fingers.

‘So, we’re ten minutes late,’ he said easily. ‘Make them sweat.’

But Armitage shuddered. ‘Late?’ he shook his head in disgust. ‘Aren’t you London born and bred? The British should never be late. My God, Finn, we invented time for a reason.’

Finn rolled his eyes. ‘The British did not invent time.’

‘I do beg your pardon,’ Armitage stared at Finn, his affront evident. ‘Where does time start?’

‘That’s easy. Greenwich,’ Finn shrugged.

‘And where is Greenwich, exactly?’

‘London. But that doesn’t mean that the British invented time -’

‘Rey,’ Armitage turned towards her, making her jump. ‘Where is the world’s oldest surviving clock?’

Rey stared at her, trying to make sense of her words. ‘What?’ she asked.

‘The world’s oldest clock,’ Armitage repeated slowly. ‘Where is it?’

Rey paused, remembering a clock in an old French church, the feel of a man standing beside her. He was warm and tall and he ran a hand through his dark hair while they spoke of perfect moments caught in time.

‘ _ Rey _ ,’ Finn said, a warning note to his tone, and she jumped.

‘Umm… Big Ben?’ she finally offered, somewhat pathetically.

Armitage looked at her incredulously, before shaking his head and giving her an indulgent smile. ‘That’s alright honey, you’re only my sex expert, after all. You just look pretty and keep talking about blow jobs and you’ll do alright.’ He turned back to Finn. ‘The oldest surviving clock in the world is in Salisbury. Oh, and where is Salisbury? Oh, that’s right. I do believe that would be in Britain.’

Finn huffed. ‘That’s mechanical clocks, which everyone knows was invented by the Dutch. Some ancient monuments are now believed to be clocks, and I’m certain you aren’t going to tell me that the British invented the pyramids of Egypt or built Chichen Itza.’

‘Don’t be so certain. After all, Stonehenge is an ancient monument that is now believed to be a clock, and it was built by the Druids.  _ Before _ the pyramids, Okereke.’

‘And what about Galileo?’ Finn crossed his arms. ‘You can’t just discount his work.’

‘Overrated hack,’ Armitage sneered. ‘Harrison and Newton were ten times the scientist he was and -’

Rey could bear it no longer. ‘Bloody hell, but you two can talk about clocks! Haven’t we got more important things to be discussing? Like this morning’s meeting? Armitage, you’re the new editor-in-chief here. Aren’t you at all worried?’

‘No, not really,’ Armitage smoothed down his suit. ‘For one thing, the deal is done and _Skywalker Publications_ now belongs to us. This morning’s meeting is simply a get together to let the Skywalker staff know how things are going to be done from now on. And of course, it will be a chance for the previous owner and editor to say goodbye.’

‘The previous owner?’ Rey asked.

Armitage stared at her. ‘Jesus, Rey, didn’t you prep for this meeting at all? Jaina Solo, the Skywalker heiress. She used to run the magazine with her father Han, but he retired and then died a few years ago. She’s been running it by herself ever since.’

‘Oh, I’ve heard a little about Jaina,’ Rey shrugged. ‘Her mother was Leia Organa. I’ve read some of her work.’

It was a gross understatement. Where Leia Organa was concerned, Rey had a serious case of hero worship. But she decided to keep quiet about the fact that she’d read everything Leia Organa had ever written, owned five of her biographies back at home - both the official and unofficial versions - and had become a writer simply because Leia had been one too. 

‘Jaina was a bit of a wild card back in the day. She’s terribly...  _ liberal _ ,’ Armitage explained, as though it was the worst word in the world. ‘She’s her mother all over again,’ he added with a sneer. ‘ _ Skywalker Publications' work _ tends to be leftist and preachy. We’ll probably change that first. They have a few fun columns though. Including one...’ Armitage frowned, pulling out his mobile again and running through it. ‘Ah yes...  _ Going Down with Benjamin Skywalker.’ _

‘Skywalker?’ Finn asked. ‘That can’t be a coincidence.’

‘No, it’s not. It’s Jaina’s brother. I haven’t seen him for years,’ Armitage mused. ‘We briefly worked together at the Times in London. Briefly shared a flat too. Benjamin is quite the writer,’ he smiled lasciviously, ‘and quite the looker too.’

‘Benjamin?’ Rey asked, her throat suddenly tight and her mouth unbearably dry. Unaccountably, she felt as though the universe was trying to tell her something.

‘Mmm, yes,’ Armitage carried on absently. ‘I haven’t read his more recent work, well, not the work he’s produced since coming back on the scene, anyway. But apparently his articles are quite the scream. Sex and dating advice... kind of like what you write darling, only for men.’

‘Oh. Benjamin Skywalker,’ Rey nodded, swallowing hard, trying not to think of the  _ other _ Ben she’d known and –

‘Oh, you know him?’ Finn asked. ‘You know he’s a big name in the industry? I met Jaina once at a conference… and she was hard. I can’t imagine what her brother must be like.’

‘No, I’ve never met him,’ Rey shook her head. ‘But I read about him in Leia’s biography and I think I’ve seen his twitter. To be honest, he sounds like a complete tosser to me.’

‘Oh, undoubtedly,’ Armitage agreed. ‘But Snoke is keen to keep him, so don’t be too vile to him, okay darling?’

Finn grinned, giving Rey a sideways glance. ‘You know what, Armitage? You should have Rey and this Benjamin Skywalker write an article together. The perfect start to the perfect merger.’

Rey sat back, affronted. ‘No thank you, if my opinion means anything around here -’

But Armitage was already snapping his fingers. ‘It doesn’t, and that’s brilliant.’

‘Armitage, look,’ Rey said firmly. ‘Maybe I don’t want to write an article with this Benjamin Skywalker person and -’

But Armitage snapped his fingers again, as though Rey had never even spoken. ‘ _ Coming Together with Rey and Benjamin,’  _ he pondered, before shaking his head. ‘No, that’s not quite right,’ he frowned, his forehead momentarily creasing and marring his perfect complexion. ‘Actually, I think ‘Benjamin’ in general sounds too formal, too out of reach. It’s just not Dominion Corp. ‘Ben’ would be better.’

‘Ben?’ Rey asked, through a mouth that felt like ash.

‘Ben, yes. Ben and Rey, yes that’s much better,’ Armitage mused. ‘Maybe we should title the article ‘Ben and Rey, merged words’. No… that’s terrible. We’re  _ Dominion _ , we own the press, we should be wittier than that... less obvious...’ Suddenly, his eyes brightened. ‘ _ Rey and Ben, Pressed Together.  _ That’s perfect.’ He pointed at Rey. ‘Write it. Finn, add it to the agenda for this morning. Skywalker will most likely be at the meeting with his sister. It will be the perfect start. It shows that  _ Dominion Corp _ can be just as fun and funky as  _ Skywalker.’  _ He paused. _ ‘ _ Just, you know, in a more orderly, organised and brutal kind of way.’

‘More British?’ Finn suggested.

‘You know it,’ Armitage winked. ‘And look at that,’ he gestured out the window, where the  _ Skywalker Publications’  _ offices sat. ‘We’re here, and right on time. The perfect start.’

Rey stared at the skyscraper, eight floors of which were dedicated to  _ Skywalker Publications _ . Suddenly, deep within her, she felt a stab of trepidation. She paused on the pavement, unable to move. Finn looked over at her with concern.

‘You okay Sunflower?’

‘Yes,’ she nodded. ‘Just feeling a bit odd. Like... I don’t know... something’s in the air, or...’

She drifted off, and Finn squeezed her arm.

‘You’re just nervous,’ he told her. ‘This is your first trip to New York in years, and it’s for a big reason, and you clearly have some bad associations with this city and it’s all combining to make you a little nervous. But it’s okay, Sunflower. We have the meeting in hand. A few hours from now and we’ll be on our way back to London.’

‘Yes,’ Rey swallowed, smiling up at Finn. ‘You’re right. I’m just jet-lagged and tired.’

‘You mean hungover,’ Armitage interrupted snidely. ‘Can’t handle your margaritas,’ he added, shaking his head at Finn. ‘I told you we should have given her vodka. It would’ve made for a clearer head this morning.’

‘Hey,’ Finn argued. ‘The girl clearly has an ex-boyfriend who lives in this city, one who she’d like to avoid. Margaritas were necessary. You don’t drink  _ vodka and Diet Coke  _ for heartbreak, Armitage.’

‘I never told you that,’ Rey said, gobsmacked, ‘I never said it was an ex-boyfriend.’

Finn looked at her kindly. ‘You don’t have to be a journalist to figure out that ‘I just don’t like New York’ meant ‘I just don’t like someone in New York,’ Sunflower.’

‘Ex-boyfriend or not, she should start drinking vodka and Diet Coke,’ Armitage remarked, still caught on the last point. He looked at Rey carefully, his eyes raking over her critically. ‘How old are you now, Rey? No, don’t answer that. A lady should never tell, and besides, I can always find out from H.R later anyway. All I’m saying is that Rey here has been dumped by man after man in the past five years - ’

‘How do you know that?’ Rey stuttered, but Armitage suddenly opened a compact, running a pineapple flavoured chapstick over his mouth.

‘Your roommate is my assistant, how do you think I know?’ he replied, smacking his lips together before tucking the compact away. ‘That’s better. I always forget how drying a long flight is on my skin. Anyway, Rey, it gets harder and harder to shift the pounds after thirty, especially if you’re partial to comfort eating. You should know, Finn.’

Finn stiffened. ‘Are you trying to tell me something?’

‘Not at all. Though it wouldn’t be entirely remiss of me to mention that you’ve missed our last three post-work hot yoga sessions.’

Finn rolled his eyes. ‘Not this again. I told you, they moved my Latin American cooking course to Thursdays. I can’t do hot yoga when I’m meant to be making tamales.’

‘You don’t need a Latin American cooking course,’ Armitage intoned. ‘I’ve told you before, all you do is season the meat in salt and cumin, throw it in a lettuce wrap and you’re done -’

‘And I’ve told you before, you can’t make a tamale with lettuce!’

‘Well you should,’ Armitage remarked. ‘Especially if you’re going to  _ keep missing hot yoga _ and gain fifty pounds -’

‘Bloody hell,’ Rey swore abruptly, so that Armitage and Finn spun on their heels to stare at her. ‘As much fun as your constant jibes are, we really are going to be late if we don’t get a move on.’

The trio fell silent as the lift took them slowly upwards. The small headache Rey had woken with that morning had turned into a pulsing crescendo behind her brow, and God, she could really use some paracetamol right now. And for all Finn’s comforting words, there was, somewhere inside her, still that deep-seated feeling of unease. She couldn’t wait for this meeting to be done with. She just wanted to get back to London. London was home. London was safe.

Because he’d promised her, after all. She could have London if he could have New York.

That way they would be certain never to see one another again.

This was work though, she reminded herself sternly. And she wouldn’t see him again anyway. There was what? Ten million people in this city? Besides, he was just a two-bit writer back in the day, working on his Great American Novel. He’d sneered openly at Rey’s journalism dream, just as he sneered at  _ Dominion Corp  _ and  _ Skywalker Publications  _ and Leia Organa and anything else media related. There was no way she would see him anywhere near this skyscraper. One day here, another night at her hotel and she would be back in London. London, where she was safe, and the past couldn’t hurt her.

She straightened her shoulders as they walked into the Skywalker office, checking in at the reception desk to get temporary security passes.

‘Ah, yes, Ms. Solo told us to expect you. We have your passes here,’ a cheery receptionist said brightly, handing Rey a laminated card on a lanyard. There were no pictures, but she groaned as she showed it to Finn. 

_ Rey, the hack Sex Therapist,  _ it read. 

Finn grinned. ‘Ms. Solo is taking a bit of petty revenge, don’t worry about it. Look at Armitage’s,’ and Rey glanced at the pass in Armitage’s hand, which read, in bright bold letters:  _ Armitage Hux, Snoke’s stooge-du-jour.  _

Armitage did not look impressed, his face a dangerous shade of red. 

‘What does yours say?’ Rey asked, peering at Finn’s with interest.

_ Finn Okereke, who should know better. _

Finn shrugged good-naturedly. ‘I told you I met Jaina Solo at a media conference a few years ago. We got drunk on tequila together.’

Finn and Rey watched as Armitage visibly pulled himself together. ‘Alright,’ he said tightly. ‘Ms. Solo has had her fun. Let’s show her that the joke is on her.’

They walked into the boardroom, and even though they were on time, a sea of faces already sat around a circular table, staring at them. Rey glanced around at them, seeing for the first time the pensive face of a woman who could only be Jaina Solo.

She was petite but majestic, her grey suit pressed and expensive, her hair pulled back into an elegant chignon. Jaina gave Rey a tight smile, but she did not rise to greet them. Everything about her, from her centre chair to her graceful poise, told the trio that this was  _ her  _ boardroom. Rey looked past her, to her right where a man sat who could only be her brother and -

And Rey’s world fell apart. 

It couldn’t be him, she thought frantically. It couldn’t be him. Nothing about this made sense. How could  _ he  _ be here? And why was he sitting next to Jaina Solo? 

She took a deep, shaky breath, her heart suddenly beating wildly in her chest. Was she still standing? She hoped to God she was, even though her legs and hands had gone completely numb and -

‘Hello Rey,’ he said, nodding at her slowly.

He hadn’t changed. It had been eight years and he hadn’t changed. He still wore his hair just a little too long, that deep brown hair she loved to run her fingers through, and his eyes were still dark and just as unfathomable. And God help her, he was still just as big and broad as she remembered and underneath her panic and alarm she felt an old tug of lust and no, no, no, this was not the time for  _ that  _ to rear its ugly head again. She bit on her lip, hard and painfully. 

‘Hello Ben,’ she replied, nodding back at him. 

And now everyone in the room was staring at  _ them. _ ‘Wait,’ Jaina said, just as Armitage and Finn opened their mouths to speak. ‘Wait, you two know each other?’ she turned to her brother, who did not look away from Rey. Their eyes were locked only on each other, and Rey briefly wondered if he was drinking her in just as she was taking her fill of him. ‘Ben, you know this girl?’

And then Ben was smiling, but it wasn’t a pleasant one. It was calm and cold and almost calculating.

‘Yes,’ he said smoothly, without missing a beat. ‘Yes, I should say I do know this girl. You see Jaina, Rey is my wife.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the cliffhanger remains. I’ll update again in a week. I have a Sparrow and Songbird update to edit in the meantime.x


	4. Floored

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We get some hints about Rey’s backstory here which is elaborated a few chapters down the line. This story is probably really confusing but I hope it all makes sense later!

A deathly silence had fallen over the room, broken only by Rey’s shallow, laboured breathing, and the ticking of a clock, slow and steady, in the corner. Rey flicked her gaze towards it, desperate to break away from Ben’s eyes, which were trained unrelentingly on her own. One glance at the clock’s bland face told her she’d been in this room for less than three minutes.

Three minutes, and her world had been spun on its axis.

Three minutes, and she could no longer pretend that the past hadn’t come back to haunt her in the most acutely painful way. She hadn’t seen Ben in… what had it been? Eight years? Eight years of waiting for calls that never came, of watching doors he never opened.

Eight years of missing him, ended but three minutes earlier, in awkward silence, embarrassed looks, and Ben, hating her still from across a boardroom.

When Rey glanced back, away from the clock and towards Ben, she found his face still locked on hers. His eyes were dark, intense and loaded with a meaning she wasn’t quite ready to meet or ponder, and so she looked away again, from Ben, to the woman beside him.

His sister. Ben’s sister. The one he never spoke of.

No. Not just that. The one he  _ lied  _ about. 

Jaina Solo was clearly furious, and never before had Rey wanted the ground to swallow her up as much as she did right then- and that included the time she drank too many ‘Duchess Kate’ cocktails while watching the Royal Wedding - the second one, the best one - and vomited all over Finn’s cat (Ayo was fine; Rey took him to a grossly overpriced pet salon near Fitzrovia and he came out so coiffed and fluffy that even Finn had to agree the cat had never looked better).

‘This is your wife?’ Jaina gaped at Ben, who - still sitting casually in his chair, looking for all the world like this was just another day in the office - nodded nonchalantly. ‘This is the girl from Paris? This is your wife… really?’

‘Ex-wife,’ hissed Rey under her breath.

Ben looked up at that, his dark eyes piercing into hers. ‘We have a piece of paper from a judge saying that we’re married, sweetheart. But I don’t seem to recall getting the second piece that says we’re not. Or at least, I don’t think I got it.’ He gave a bored shrug of his shoulders, and Rey felt a rising surge of rage. ‘But then, you know me, Rey. Never could read the French, could I?’

‘So… you’re divorced?’ Armitage chipped in, his voice ripe with undisguised interest. He looked from Rey to Ben, and then back to Rey again. ‘Or are you still married?’

‘This is not the time to discuss personal business,’ Rey said tightly, her eyes still locked with Ben’s. ‘It would be highly unprofessional of me.’

‘Right, of course,’ Armitage nodded, before patting her on the shoulder awkwardly. ‘Oh Rey-Rey, divorced before thirty, just like Britney,’ he intoned mournfully. He turned to Finn, who was still staring at Rey, his mouth hanging open. ‘This is all so sad. Finn, make a note in my diary: I need to commission an article, something along the lines of a good girl’s guide to ending her bad girl marriage. Oh, and Finn, make another note: I need to take Rey-Rey here out for muffins.’

‘What?’ Finn turned accusingly to Armitage. ‘What the fuck? We just found out Rey was married to Ben fucking Solo and you want to take her out for muffins?’ There was a fury to Finn’s voice that Rey had never heard before, and she winced.

Still, she didn’t look away from Ben.

‘Solo?’ She asked him coldly. ‘Ben Solo?’ She shook her head at him. ‘And there I was thinking I’d married Ben Smith.’

Rey noticed Jaina’s eyes sharpen with interest at that. ‘You dropped Solo?’ Ben’s sister asked, her voice tense, and Rey saw Ben shift uncomfortably in his seat.

‘For a time,’ he shrugged. ‘It wasn’t a big deal... I just didn’t want to have to deal with... you know... all  _ that  _ for awhile.’

‘How convenient for you,’ Jaina replied sharply. ‘Some of us have never had that option, Benjy.’

‘This isn’t about you and me,’ Ben retorted, and Jaina gave him an ugly smile.

‘No,’ she snapped. ‘It’s about you and this girl, and me cleaning up your fucking mess for you again.’

A deathly quiet fell over the boardroom and Rey swallowed uncomfortably.

‘ _ Wow, _ ’ Armitage exhaled suddenly, shaking his head. He held up his hands to fan his face. ‘This is all just... I mean,  _ wow.  _ This morning I thought this would just be another boring merger meeting - no disrespect, Jaina, I know you’re a fireball and all but, well, _you know_ \- but here I am taking part in my own personal episode of the fucking  _ Days of Our Lives.  _ Honestly, Rey-Rey, you’ve made me so happy. When we go out for muffins, I’m going to buy you a hot drink too in exchange for all the tea you’ve spilt today.’

‘Are you friggin kidding me?’ Finn spat. ‘You’re _ happy?  _ She’s now  _ Rey-Rey?  _ She’s secretly married to the biggest fuck up in modern day publishing and all you want to do is  _ take her out for muffins and tea?’ _

_ Fuck-up?  _ Rey thought sharply, glancing at Ben.  _ What does Finn mean? _

  
But before she could think twice, she heard Armitage give a sigh and watched him shoot a bored look in Finn’s direction. ‘Finn, look at Rey,’ Armitage replied. ‘You said it yourself: she was married to Ben Solo, of all the people. Look, I consider myself a professional person and all, but I’m also a man with particular needs. And right now, that need is the dirt on this marriage and fast.’ He examined his nails for a moment, before giving Rey that indulgent, almost fond look again. ‘And muffins are a comfort food,’ he carried on, patting her gently. ‘I want all the juicy gossip on this, Rey-Rey. All of it.’ He turned back to Finn. ‘You can’t winnow painful backstory out of people with low-carb snacks and vegan finger food. It has to be carbs.’

Rey saw Finn give Armitage a withering glance before he turned to her. His eyes were hurt, his expression wounded. ‘I can’t believe you were married, and to Ben Solo of all people, and never told me,’ Finn said quietly. ‘How could you not tell me, Rey?  _ Me?  _ How could you keep this a secret?’

‘Look, Finn, I - ’ Rey began, turning to him, before coming to a sudden pause. She could feel every pair of eyes in the room lingering on her, Ben’s included, all of them waiting for her words, and she swallowed with discomfort. 

The truth was, she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how to explain Ben, how to explain Paris, how to explain her young marriage. Most of all, she didn’t know how to explain why she never spoke about any of them. She’d put them all in a box, sealed it shut, and then hid it away in a small part of her soul that was only for herself. A box she tried not to think of, or dwell on, or let hurt her more than it already had.

‘I don’t know,’ she uttered lamely, looking down. ‘I don’t know why I didn’t tell you.’

A deathly quiet settled across the room, and from the corner of her eye, Rey saw people shifting uncomfortably in their seats.

‘Everyone out,’ a voice, quietly spoken though loaded with warning, spoke out. Rey looked up to find Jaina Solo glaring at her. Her face was red, her fingers wound tightly around her pen, and there was such open dislike written across her features that Rey winced. ‘I want you all out of my boardroom,’ Jaina added firmly. ‘I mean it. Now. This,’ she pointed at Rey and Ben, ‘is a family matter.’

But Armitage, his back straightening, immediately shook his head. ‘Actually, this is my boardroom now, and Rey is my star columnist, as well as my assistant’s roommate. So, I would say this is a Dominion Corp matter.’

‘I want you out,’ Jaina snapped again. ‘Fuck Dominion Corp. This situation requires delicacy, and I would request that you and your team leave immediately so that I can attend to what is clearly a family matter.’

‘No,’ Armitage retorted. ‘For one thing, if Rey here really was married to your brother, it could be a conflict of interest that I will need to inform the board about. And secondly...’ abruptly, Armitage gave a smile so wide he looked almost giddy, ‘... secondly, this is a  _ fantastic  _ piece of gossip. Honestly, I’m genuinely surprised - fucking  _ floored  _ in fact - and it takes a hell of a lot to surprise me. Who would’ve thought little Rey-Rey here had it in her?’ He gave Rey a surprised, almost fond look. ‘Well, I suppose it’s always the quiet ones.’

But Rey refused to smile back. She could feel Ben’s eyes upon her, watching her. She’d always been able to tell when he was looking at her, and déjà vu, cold and clear, suddenly flooded her body.

_ She’s twenty-two and in Ben’s flat in Paris. The snow is falling in lazy drifts and there is ice on the windowpane, but she’s got the heating on full blast and the floor is warm under her feet. She’s packing yet another gift package for Liam, jars of French confiture and chicken liver parfait, bottles of apricot nectar and packets of madeleines. He’ll probably send it back, like he has all the others, but she can’t stop sending them. _

_ Can’t stop trying to win him back. _

_Her hair is pulled into a loose knot on her neck and an errant strand falls away, lingering on her cheek. She stops for a moment to brush the straying lock behind her ear, shaking her head. But no sooner has her finger left her hair than she has a feeling of being watched, and she_ _turns to see Ben across the room, staring at her. Momentarily, she allows herself to stare back, and he licks his lips, desire written all over his face. Looking at him looking at her, she feels a sudden flare of heat herself, and she turns away, back to the box before her, uncertain and confused_.

‘I realise that Dominion Corp are known for their brand of immature humour and cheap sensationalism, but here at Skywalker we’re known for our dignity and professionalism and hard-cutting journalism,’ Jaina said icily, her face stony. ‘So, I’m going to ask you one more time, Mr Hux, to get the hell out of my office, before I call security on the three of you.’

‘Oh, please do call security,’ Armitage replied smoothly, his hand on his hip. ‘As of today, Dominion Corp  _ owns  _ Skywalker Publications and all of its subsidiaries, enterprises, property and premises. Technically, I should have security escort you from the building.’

‘You wouldn’t dare,’ Jaina exhaled. 

‘Try me,’ Armitage answered, in the voice Rey recognised from the boardroom of Gloss magazine. Hard, sharp, and full of threat.

‘Oh, don’t think that I won’t,’ Jaina stopped, and Rey watched as she gave Armitage a long, almost languorous look. ‘It would give me great pleasure to try you, Mr Hux. Dominion Corp might think they have the upper hand here, and perhaps they do… for now. But you can’t keep a Solo down for long, and so you had better watch your pretty step.’

Armitage gave a syrupy smile. ‘Oh, that’s sweet. Look at you, little Jaina Solo, playing the big bad policeman and trying to intimidate me. Well, forgive me if I don’t stand here and quake in my designer boots.’

Jaina smirked at her. ‘Haven’t you ever heard of ‘pride before a fall,’ Mr Hux?’

Armitage hardly blinked. ‘Dominion Corp are the biggest news corporation in the world, and I’m editor-in-chief of not only Gloss magazine, but now Elegance too. Falling doesn’t worry me. Not when I’ve such a nice cushion to land on.’

‘You really are a piece of work, aren’t you?’ Jaina began, ‘You think you can just walk in here and take over without my input or experience or…’

And so it continued, both editors trading insult after insult as the rest of the boardroom shifted awkwardly in their seats. Rey looked up, meeting Ben’s eyes, and this time, she allowed herself to hold them. 

He’d changed, she realised. It wasn’t just that he was older, that there were faint lines around his eyes and a touch of grey to his hair. There was something in the way he sat, in the way he held himself, that was new and unfamiliar to her. But more than that, his eyes, still brown, still flecked with amber, and still trained firmly on hers, seemed cold and frighteningly empty. There was no love in his gaze, none of the possessiveness she remembered from before. This was Ben, but it wasn’t the Ben she’d known, loved and married.

She shivered, a tremor of uncertainty trickling down her spine.

‘That’s it, I’m done,’ Jaina’s voice, sharp and precise, cut through the air. Rey felt her words slicing through the locks on her gaze with Ben, and she abruptly looked away, straight into the face of his sister. Jaina’s eyes were narrowed, while her breathing looked tight and shallow. She was the very image of furious restraint, and the look she gave Rey was frigid. 

Rey swallowed nervously. ‘Ms Solo, I’m certain that - ’

But Jaina shook her head. ‘You were really married to my brother?’ she asked, almost incredulously. ‘You were the girl from Paris?’ 

‘Yes,’ Rey admitted, feeling Ben’s eyes upon her. Momentarily, ‘the girl from Paris’ echoed in her mind and she felt an old, familiar stab of pain. 

The girl from Paris. Paris. If she closed her eyes, Rey could still feel the cold wind on her skin and the smell of coffee and damp earth in the air. She could still hear Ben, typing away next to her. It felt like only yesterday.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

‘And these Dominion Corp people are with you?’

‘Yes, well,’ Rey swallowed again. ‘Armitage is actually my editor over at Gloss, so technically, I’m with him.’

‘Right,’ Jaina took another deep breath. ‘I want you,’ She prodded Ben’s shoulder firmly, forcing him to look away from Rey, ‘and you,’ she hooked a finger at Rey, ‘In my office. Right now.’

‘Actually, that would be my office now -’ Armitage started to protest, but Rey noticed that Jaina wouldn’t even look at him. Her eyes rested almost menacingly on Rey.

‘My office. Now,’ she ordered again. She motioned to Finn and Armitage. ‘And don’t you dare try and bring these people with you.’ She turned to the rest of the room. ‘This merger meeting is delayed until 9am tomorrow. Get back to work until then.’

‘Oh, Mr Snoke isn’t going to like that,’ Armitage breathed. ‘This whole company is Dominion owned now. You can’t just delay a merger… I’ll have to call the board, I’ll have to inform Mr Snoke and -’

‘Like I give two shits about what Duncan Snoke thinks,’ Jaina replied. She looked at Rey again. ‘You two. My office.  _ Now _ .’

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today was a short chapter but we get some extra long chapters coming up so I hope they’ll be worth the wait.


	5. Did you know?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last week’s chapter was short so have an extra long one this week with hugs from the author. 
> 
> Some mentions of Paige/Ben  
> Some mentions of what happened to Paige  
> Some mentions of Rey/Ben
> 
> Also some mentions of Armitage’s nails

‘Did you know?’ Ben knew his voice was low, angry and immensely dangerous, and he hated talking to his sister this way. But God damn, this was Rey they were talking of and if his sister knew about this and still brought her in here -

But Jaina shook her head. ‘You mean did I know that the girl you secretly married and then just as quickly divorced all those years ago during your ill-advised Boho Parisienne phase was the same sex columnist Dominion Corp was sending over here as part of their hostile takeover? Of course, I didn’t know, you idiot. All I know is that you came back from Paris eight years ago with a chip on your shoulder, a divorce under your belt and an instruction to me not to ask any questions.’

Ben nodded, satisfied with her answer but still pensively quiet. Jaina, her eyes suddenly soft, came to sit next to him, laying a hand on his shoulder.

‘So that’s the girl,’ she said with a sigh. 

‘Yes.’

‘She’s pretty.’

Ben looked up, because in no way did pretty come even close to describing Rey.

‘She’s luminescent,’ he corrected her, and Jaina sighed again.

‘Your talent is wasted on Going Down with Ben Skywalker,’ she muttered, before leaning closer. ‘Benjy, you have about two minutes before that girl walks in here and I start clearing the air between us all. If there is anything you want to tell me, now is the time to do it.’

Ben looked into the chestnut depths of his sister’s concerned eyes. ‘There’s nothing to say,’ he shrugged, even though the words felt heavy, weighted with regrets, in his mouth. ‘I met her in Paris. We had a year. She was a writer, just starting out. She needed help and I -’ he stopped, taking a deep, ragged breath. ‘Our marriage was a mistake.’

‘A mistake?’

‘Yes. And now here we are.’

Jaina sat back, regarding him thoughtfully. ‘Benjy, I -’

But she was interrupted by the painful creak of her door, and there, just glancing in through the crack, stood Rey. Ben’s heart leapt painfully in his chest and his throat went dry, because damn it all, she was more beautiful than ever, even standing there on her too-high heels and wearing the expression of a deer caught in the headlights. 

‘Come in... Rey, isn’t it?’ Jaina said calmly, and Rey nodded, walking into the room on tremulous legs. She sat across from Jaina and Ben, pointedly not meeting his eyes, and that stung. Because this was Rey. Rey, who used to lie across his bed in Paris in his shirt, her damp hair clinging to her shoulders and - 

Ben quickly fired a bullet into that particular memory. Because now was not the time for reminiscing, particularly of memories like that, which made both his blood heat and his heart flutter. And so, Ben set his mouth and eyes into hard lines. If Rey wouldn’t look at him, then he wouldn’t look at her.

He had to keep this professional, after all.

‘Alright,’ Jaina started, taking a deep breath. ‘You two are both adults, so I’m going to treat you as such. So, let me say this. I don’t give a rat’s ass about what happened in the past. Oh, this isn’t to say that I don’t care that you were once married to my brother, because I do,’ her eyes narrowed on Rey, ‘but you are divorced and have both moved on, so I have nothing to say to you about that. But I will tell you one thing. I love this company, and I love The Liberal Statesman, which my mother started from nothing. And I will be damned if I’m leaving it with this,’ she pointed at them both, ‘as the lingering memory of her legacy. I’m not letting forty years of work be reduced to a boardroom of people gaping at my brother and the woman he was once married to. Understood?’

Of everything Ben thought Jaina might say, he had not been expecting that. He and Rey both sat rigidly, shoulders tense and hands clenched, as they were swept up in a trademark Jaina Solo thundercloud. 

‘So, in conclusion, get your act together,’ Jaina snapped. ‘I’m giving you five minutes alone in this office to talk this out - or scream at each other, or talk about the weather, or sit in silence and stare at the walls, for all I care, so long as - and I’m talking to you particularly here, Benjamin Solo - that you do not have sex on this desk,’ Rey flushed deeply, while Ben’s ears went scarlet. So, his sister was still bitter about that assistant of hers, what was her name? Kerry? Kayla? Well, it didn’t matter. Jaina walking in on him while he had sex with her secretary on her desk was a memory he’d like to forget too. 

‘I hardly think -’ Rey began, but Jaina held up a hand to silence her.

‘I’m giving you five minutes. And then, when you both come out, this doesn’t get mentioned again. You -’ she pointed at Ben, ‘are going to get back to work. While you,’ she pointed at Rey, ‘have ten minutes to get out of this building, before I call security on you and your companions out there. Got it? Come back tomorrow at 9am for the merger meeting, and we’ll all pretend that today didn’t happen,’ Jaina paused. ‘Just like your marriage.’

‘I’m due to fly back to London tomorrow,’ Rey said quietly, and once again, Ben felt that deep-rooted and very old torrent of pain at her words. She was always leaving, back in the day, flitting back to London and her friends and to  _ him  _ and it still hurt to think of it. 

She was always leaving Paris. She was always, in the end, going to leave him too.

‘Well, I think you need to rearrange that flight,’ Jaina remarked coldly. ‘Although you’re clearly the type to walk away when things get tough. So, by all means, walk away from this merger meeting too.’

Rey opened her mouth to protest, before closing it quickly. But she shot a glance at Ben, bewildered hurt all over her face, as if to ask him what the hell he’d said to his sister about her that she’d warranted that bitchy comment.

‘Right,’ Jaina snapped, standing up. ‘I’m going to go and - God help me - talk to the new editor-in-chief and his little friend. Finn Okereke,’ she mused, sighing suddenly. ‘Nice kid. He should be writing though, not playing assistant to that tight-lipped, red-haired...’ She trailed off suddenly, turning to Rey and looking at her with interest. ‘You live with Finn, is that correct?’

‘Yes,’ Rey nodded.

‘He’s your boyfriend?’

Ben noticed Rey blushing suddenly, her eyes to the floor. Ben stared at her, aware that his eyes were sharp with undisguised interest and knowing there was nothing he could do to disguise it. Rey looked up, catching his gaze and holding it. ‘No,’ she said quietly, and Ben felt a flood of relief go through him. At that, Rey’s face seemed to change, curiosity crossing her features, and Ben swore under his breath. He set his face into hard, stern lines, and Rey, clearly wounded, looked away.

‘So, then, tell me, why is he working as a dogsbody for Armitage Hux, when he could be writing? I’ve been offering work to him here for years, and yet he always turns me down,’ Jaina continued.

Rey looked up at that, and Ben could see that she was genuinely surprised. ‘Really? You offered him a job?’ She took a deep breath. ‘He never said a word to me.’

Jaina stared at her pointedly. ‘Just like you never told him about your marriage to my brother? Well, looks to me like both you and your friend are good at keeping secrets, hey?’

Chastised into silence, Rey made no reply, biting on her lip uncertainly, and Ben felt a memory strike him hard.

_ It’s early summer, the days getting longer, the air getting warmer, and Rey is watering her plants on the balcony. She’s wearing that sundress he likes, the one with the straps that cross at the back, and he puts down the bags of shopping on the kitchen counter before quietly walking towards her. She’s faced away from him, humming as she tends to her seedlings, and she startles as he wraps his arms around her, biting down lightly on her shoulder.  _

_ ‘So,’ he whispers in her ear. ‘How close are we to a homegrown cup of coffee today, then?’ He gestures to the coffee shrub on the table, Rey’s prized plant, her favourite of them all, and she laughs. _

_ ‘A coffee plant should give its first fruit after around ten years,’ she tells him. _

_ ‘How old is this one now?’ _

_ Rey grins. ‘Six.’ _

_ ‘Four more years,’ Ben says with mock sadness, before he shrugs. ‘Good thing I bought some fresh coffee at the carrefour when I was out. It’s Kenyan, but it will have to do until this one gets its act together.’ _

_ Rey smiles at that, before going back to her plants, facing away from him and towards Paris. _

_ He clears his throat. ‘So, four years,’ he muses. _

_ ‘I’ll be twenty-six,’ Rey replies, shaking her head in disbelief. ‘That seems crazy.’ _

_ ‘Why?’ _

_ ‘I don’t know,’ she says, squinting at him through the sunlight. ‘It’s just… did you know that Eva Peron was first lady of Argentina at twenty-six? Or that Jean Harlow had starred in twelve movies by then?’ _

_ Ben shrugged. ‘But they were also both dead by their thirties.’ _

_ Rey gave a rueful smile. ‘I know, but at least they’d accomplished something. What have I ever done?’ _

_ ‘You’re still young, you know. You have your whole life ahead of you,’ his voice sounds jaded, even to him, and Rey looks at him with concern. _

_ ‘So do you,’ she reminds him, and he looks down.  _

_ Rey is right and wrong all at the same time, he thinks. Sometimes, it feels as though his life ended with Paige. As though that day in London split the universe into two… a road where he and Paige were together, happy, and living in his place in New York. He knew that road, could see in the distance where it led. It was predictable, that road. It was safe. It was different, he realises, to the road he’s on now. On this path he’s alone, bitter, and uncertain. It’s rocky underfoot and he can’t see where he’s going, and the only bright spot is Rey next to him, holding his hand and guiding him through the uneven patches and gaping chasms. But he can feel his grip on her hand slipping… or maybe he’s letting it go. _

_ ‘Where will you be in four years, do you think Rey?’ he asks suddenly, and she stops. The question has clearly surprised her, because she looks over her shoulder at him, chewing on her lip. It’s a tell of hers, a sign of thoughtful nervousness, and he knows it. _

_ He can’t blame her. If he’s entirely honest, he’s somewhat surprised by the question too. It’s one of their unspoken rules, after all. They don’t talk about life before Paris, and they don’t talk about what life might be like after Paris.  _

_ They just… live. Here in Paris. Here in the moment. _

_ ‘I don’t know,’ she replies slowly. ‘I hadn’t considered. Although,’ she pauses, wiping soil from her fingers across her dress. ‘I’d like to be working as a journalist. For a newspaper. A proper one.’ _

_ Ben swallows at that, feeling a momentary stab of guilt, looking away from her and over the Parisian skyline. ‘I hope you are,’ he says quietly. ‘You’re good.’ _

_ ‘What about you?’ she asks, staring at him. ‘Where will you be?’ _

_ He shrugs. ‘I don’t think that far ahead.’ _

_ ‘Okay,’ Rey nods. ‘Okay. So, tell me then, where were you four years ago?’ _

_ His mouth runs dry, and he stares back at her. ‘I don’t remember.’ _

_ At once, she’s working her bottom lip between her teeth again. ‘You don’t want to tell me,’ she bristles, ‘that’s fine, that’s fine, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked, I -’ _

_ ‘No,’ he interrupts. ‘No. It’s not that I don’t want to… it’s just that…’ he shrugs once more. ‘I don’t remember.’ _

_ ‘Why?’ she asks, her face full of worry. _

_ He shakes his head, looking away from her in her distress to Paris beyond. ‘I just don’t,’ he lies, hating himself once more. _

_ Because he does know why.  _

_ Paige. _

He jumped, and Jaina looked over at him in concern. ‘You okay?’ she asked him, and Ben tried to look nonchalant. 

‘Yeah,’ he replied easily. He could feel Rey’s eyes still upon him, full of hurt and recrimination and sadness, and he glanced up at her, allowing himself to take her in once more. 

Rey is here, he thought, and his heart thudded painfully in his chest. 

Jaina sighed. ‘I should go and call the board,’ she told them. ‘They won’t be happy about this, and I can only depend on their goodwill for so long. And I don’t trust your boss,’ she said, narrowing her eyes at Rey. ‘Armitage Hux is a self-absorbed, hard-headed and stone-cold bitch,’ Jaina added ruefully, looking around her office. The walls were littered with prior magazine covers, and Ben watched as Rey’s eyes drifted over Nelson Mandela, Desmond Tutu, Al Gore and even Hilary Clinton. Their images sat above headlines indicating worthy, relevant news stories, and he thought he saw Rey blanch with shame. 

Well, why not, Ben thought cruelly. She was Dominion Corp, after all. The girl who’d wanted to be an award-winning journalist, the girl who’d waxed lyrical about his mother and took cuttings of her favourite articles from Time, and Newsweek, and The Liberal Statesman now worked for Gloss magazine, that flippant, bright, and utterly forgettable British rag. Of course, he was no better, he realised. He wrote for Elegance, just as flippant, just as bright, and just as easily discarded. But the difference between him and Rey was that he no longer cared. He’d stopped caring a long time ago.

She still did though. He could see it in her eyes and in the disappointed set of her mouth. She still wanted more.

Jaina groaned. ‘Armitage Hux. Of all the people. Damn it all. I might as well burn the place down and sow the ground with salt,’ she said cuttingly. She looked at the two of them once more, standing abruptly. ‘Five minutes.’ 

She stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

And then they were alone. For the first time since that last time. For the first time since that one time that they nearly - Ben swallowed, refusing to dwell on that night. 

He didn’t know why he still did this to himself; why he still tortured himself with what happened and with what didn’t happen. He didn’t know why his mind still lingered on the past, running through all the coulds, shoulds, and maybes, his own imagination torturing him, providing snippets and images of something he could only dream of, a dream that might have been a reality if only he hadn’t said please. One simple word, one heartfelt plea, and it all came crashing down around him. Rey’s desperate plea, followed by that walk around Paris, hating himself in his weakness, returning to find his apartment empty and Rey gone. He’d used the time before she came home to scribble out a note, just one hurried line of ‘ _ we’ve made a terrible mistake’ _ , leaving it for her to find on the espresso machine. 

Coffee had always tasted bitter to him since.

‘How are you, Ben?’ Rey asked, her voice small.

‘Good,’ he replied, just as restrained. ‘I’m good.’

For a moment they sat in silence, neither willing to make the first move, to mention that brief, shared past. 

‘So,’ Rey finally cracked. ‘Benjamin Solo? There I was thinking I’d been married to a Ben Smith.’

He winced. ‘Benjamin Solo is my legal name, but in Paris I wanted...’ he paused, treading carefully. ‘I wanted to be free of Solo and all that came with it. I couldn’t use Skywalker or Organa... and Smith...’ he trailed away, swallowing painfully. ‘Smith seemed so nothing. So innocuous. So easy.’

‘Leia Organa,’ Rey said icily. ‘Your mother was Leia Organa.’

She gave a bitter laugh, and Ben swallowed, wracked with sudden shame.

‘God, I’m such an idiot,’ Rey continued, shaking her head. ‘You knew how much I loved her work and she was your mother. Your mother was Leia Organa and you never said a word, never told me anything, let me go on and on about her and you never said anything - ’

Ben ran a hand over his face, rubbing his temples. ‘I didn’t mean to lie… I didn’t mean to keep things from you. My time in Paris… that whole year…’ he trailed off miserably. ‘Paris was supposed to be different - it was meant to be a fresh start - I never thought that I would meet you, that I would marry anyone... you were never meant to be more than -’

‘More than what? A two-day marriage?’ Rey interrupted.

Ben stopped and stared at her. ‘More than my friend,’ he finished, his voice husky, and Rey looked away.

‘Oh,’ she said weakly, her hands in her lap.

Finally, Ben could bear it no longer. ‘How’s Liam?’ he asked, even though speaking the name was an ordeal, and honestly, how could one syllable be so painful?

But Rey only nodded. ‘He’s fine. At least... I’m told he’s fine.’

Ben’s heart seemed to stop, and he looked at Rey, his eyes sharp. ‘You’re told he’s fine?’

‘After you… after Paris,’ Rey swallowed hard, this whole conversation clearly painful for her. ‘Well, when I got back to London, things were... were never the same between me and Liam. He didn’t understand you, or your place in my life.’

‘But I wasn’t in your life by then,’ Ben remarked, and Rey nodded.

‘Yes. But Liam... he couldn’t even understand why I’d needed you in the first place. Why he wasn’t enough.’

Ben took a deep breath, moving one hand onto the table, just a hair width away from hers. ‘Was he ever going to be enough, Rey?’ he asked.

He saw Rey look at the place on the desk where their hands nearly touched, and Ben knew, he just knew, that she was remembering that moment too. That moment when they’d first touched hands, his fingers pressed lightly against hers, pleasure, promise and a prophetic feeling of  _ this is it  _ seeping through them at just a simple exchange of skin.

‘Yes,’ Rey said, and her admission cut Ben to the bone. ‘Yes, I thought Liam would be enough.’ She looked up then, her hazel eyes catching his, making the breath still in his throat at their beauty. ‘Until I met you.’

  
  


He nodded, biting down hard on his lip, attempting to temper a sudden rise of hope with pain. He knew better than to expect anything more from this woman. Knew better than to open himself up to such heartbreak again.

‘So,’ he cleared his throat once, and then again. ‘I’ve read some of your work in  _ Ask Me Anything _ .’

Now she blushed, and hard. 

‘I’m sorry to say I haven’t read any of yours, Ben.’

‘Don’t be sorry. It’s terrible.’

Rey sighed. ‘You said that about your book, and yet...’

‘I never finished the book.’

‘I know,’ Rey said, and he tried to ignore the sudden look of disappointment that crossed her face. Disappointment mixed with a small helping of judgement. ‘I look for it in every bookshop that I go into.’

‘I look for yours too,’ he admitted.

She looked down. ‘I never finished mine either.’

‘Paris?’ he asked, and she gave a wry smile.

‘Yes. Paris kind of killed both of our novels, didn’t it?’

‘I didn’t have the heart to finish the book after you left,’ Ben confessed. ‘Without you there, in the flat, drinking my coffee and wearing my clothes, it all felt kind of... pointless.’

Rey looked at him with such utter pain and poignancy that he wanted to reach out, to take her hand, to ask her to pick up the very moment where they last left off. But her face hardened once more, just as quickly as it softened, and Ben knew she was lost to him.

Rey sighed again. ‘Look,’ she started. ‘Look, Ben. It’s going to be easier for everyone out there if we try and be grown-ups about this.’

‘I agree.’

‘So, let’s go out there, be Ben and Rey, consummate professionals. Get through this with as little difficulty as possible.’

‘I also agree.’

‘Okay then,’ Rey stood, wobbling slightly in her heels. She took a step away from him before he swore, standing abruptly and wrenching her back toward him, into the hard confines of his arms.

‘Ben -’ she protested, but the noise was quiet, and he knew instantly that she still felt it too.

‘I’m not going to try anything,’ he whispered, his voice hot against her ear. ‘But I need to know: why didn’t you sign the divorce papers, Rey?’

‘You know why,’ Rey exhaled.

‘No. I know what your lawyer told me. I know what you told everyone at home. But I want to know, from your mouth, why you’ve remained married to me all these years.’

Rey stared at him, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. ‘Let me go -’

‘No. You owe me this.’

‘Ben... Ben, it’s just that -’

The door swung open, and Ben and Rey turned towards the noise. In one moment, Rey scrambled out of Ben’s grasp so that he stood there, alone, holding onto the air where she once stood.

Armitage and Finn stood in the doorway, Finn looking at Rey and Ben icily. ‘That’s five minutes. We have to go, Rey.’

‘What?’ Rey asked, looking unsteady on her legs, her eyes darting back towards Ben.

‘Ms Solo said you were to have five minutes,’ Finn said coldly. ‘You’ve had five minutes, Rey. We need to go. Armitage and I need to talk to you.’

Ben’s hands dropped to his sides, and he hardened his heart once more.

‘Good,’ he said brutally. ‘You can all get the fuck out of my sister’s office.’

Rey looked wounded at that, but he tore his eyes from her, going to the window and staring at the city outside.

‘Fine, fine,’ Armitage said dismissively. ‘Let Jaina think she has her way, for today at least. Mr Snoke will deal with her in due course. And you too, Ben, if you don’t play ball with us,’ he added blithely. 

‘Are you warning me?’ Ben snapped, and Armitage shrugged.

‘Yes,’ he replied simply. ‘I owe you that. Ben, let me tell you, you may want to reconsider your behaviour, if you plan on remaining employed here at Skywalker Publications. I’ve just got off the phone with Mr Snoke and he was highly dismayed to hear of today’s antics and is already on his way for tomorrow’s meeting.’

‘I don’t need any favours from you,’ Ben growled at Armitage, but Armitage’s face remained even and unconcerned.

‘I’m not doing this for you,’ he replied simply. ‘I’m doing this for Paige,’ he added, and Ben’s heart clenched painfully. Armitage was looking at him with pity, and Ben immediately turned to Rey, wondering if she’d heard, wondering if she  _ knew. _

Rey’s eyes were wide, and Ben could tell she was piecing together another slice of the puzzle that made up his life. Miserably, he wondered what she would think if he pulled her to one side and confessed everything. Wondered how she would react if he told her the truth.  _ I loved you in Paris, but I let you go because I couldn’t let go of her. I couldn’t let go of her, even though it was you I wanted. _

_ It’s always been you, Rey. _

He heard Armitage sigh. ‘You look a fucking mess, Ben. It would kill Paige to see you like this,’ Armitage paused. ‘Well, if that bus hadn’t -’

In one moment, Ben had Armitage pinned to the wall, one hand on his neck, his face fierce.

‘Don’t you dare to finish that fucking sentence,’ he warned lowly, and Armitage struggled against him. Suddenly, Finn was there, hitting Ben’s arms and trying to ply him from Armitage’s flailing form, but it was no use. 

‘Will someone call fucking security!’ He could hear Finn yelling, could hear Armitage’s breath coming in increasingly ragged gasps, but still, he didn’t let loose. It was like a red wave had washed over him and he couldn’t control his anger, and he hadn’t been this bad, hadn’t felt so out of control, for years.

A hand on his shoulder; a sigh at his back. Soft words, spoken with compassion by his ear, called him back to himself. 

‘Ben, let him go.’

Rey. It was Rey.

With horror, Ben released Armitage, watching the red-headed man gasp for breath and stagger away from him. Breathing heavily, Ben glanced at his hands, before glancing at Rey, who watched him with sad eyes.

‘I don’t know you at all, do I?’ She asked, before turning away, straight into Finn’s waiting arms.

Ben clenched his fists, but refused to rise to the bait. Instead, he stood taller, unwilling to turn and look at any of them again.

Unwilling to look at her again, if he was honest. Shame flooded through him.

Behind him, he heard Armitage catch his breath. ‘Well, that was fucking  _ dramatic,  _ Ben,’ he seethed. ‘Fuck it, you even broke one of my nails. I mean, for fucks sake, Ben.  _ A nail.’ _

‘Let’s go,’ Ben heard Rey say quietly, and he didn’t need to look at her to know that she was still being held by Finn.

‘Yes, let’s,’ Armitage replied. ‘Honestly, you don’t see a man for a decade and... I mean,  _ my nails,  _ Rey.’

‘Yes, I know, but please... I want to go,’ Ben heard Rey implore.

‘Yeah... come on, Armitage, let’s get out of here,’ Finn said darkly. ‘The guy’s a prick. Let’s not waste another minute on him.’

‘Fine, fine, fine,’ Armitage replied. ‘I’ll need to get my nails buffed now before our dinner reservation tonight. Let’s find a reputable salon on 5th and Rey, you can tell us all about this,’ Ben felt rather than saw him wave in his direction, ‘on the way.’

‘I really just want to go and sleep,’ Rey replied, her voice quiet, and Ben closed his mind to another memory. That of Rey, hot and snug in his arms while the snow fell outside, using his body for warmth, burrowed tight under blankets. 

He turned before he could stop himself, looking straight into Rey’s eyes and -

‘Oh, sorry darling,’ Armitage shook his head. ‘No can do, Rey. While you and your...’ he smirked, dusting his jacket down, clearly recovered and back to his usual self. ‘While you and your husband were in here talking, I used the time to pitch my Ben/Rey idea to Mr Snoke and I have to say, he was absolutely delighted with the idea. He wants the two of you to get started on it right away.’

‘What idea?’ Ben asked, but Rey was already shaking her head.

‘No,’ she said vehemently. ‘Absolutely not. Ben and I… no, we can’t work together. It would be highly inappropriate.’

‘But of course, you can,’ Armitage cajoled.‘In  _ Ask Me Anything _ , you know all about men, while Benjamin Skywalker knows women... it’s perfect. All you need to do is give me fifteen hundred words on how to have perfect sex. I mean, come on Rey, the two of you were married. Together you should be able to write golden smut that craps rainbows and unicorns.’

‘No,’ Ben said firmly. ‘We aren’t doing that. Besides,’ he added, letting his eyes slide over to Rey suggestively. ‘We haven’t done the necessary research.’

Armitage only grinned. ‘Oh, don’t let your divorce stand in the way.’

‘Our divorce?’ Ben raised his eyebrows, looking at Rey pointedly. ‘I’ve never let  _ our divorce _ stand in the way of anything, don’t you worry about that.’ 

He’d spoken with every intention of hurting her, and yet, when Rey’s eyes clouded over and she bit on her lip painfully, Ben felt a torrent of guilt.

Armitage hardly noticed. ‘Excellent,’ he said authoritatively, ‘well, I’m sure once you’ve shared a bottle of wine and ironed out some of your  _ obvious  _ issues, that you’ll both be able to dig through the past and recall your most delightful carnal moments together. Easy.’

Rey blushed, before looking away. Ben watched as her friend… what was his name again? Finn, yes, Finn – _ the roommate, but not the boyfriend _ – his mind helpfully reminded him, stared at her. Finn’s eyes were sharp, wide with curiosity, and he flicked another glance at Rey, before his eyes settled on Ben. Ben held his gaze firmly, knowing it was unnecessary to add anything else. Clearly, Finn had already worked everything out for himself.

‘ _ The necessary research, _ ’ Finn whispered, before his gaze settled back on Rey. ‘No,’ he whistled in obvious disbelief. ‘Rey, this is crazy… this whole day, this whole thing is crazy... but  _ this...’ _

Ben watched as Rey blushed again. ‘Finn, look, listen to me- ’ she began, but Armitage was already pulling on Finn’s arms.

‘What?’ Armitage asked. Finn leaned over, whispering in his ear. Ben saw his mouth drop open, before he turned from Finn. 

‘No,’ he exclaimed, looking at where Rey and Ben stood apart, Rey’s face getting warmer and warmer by the second.

‘Yes,’ Ben said, shrugging his shoulders. ‘You understand now why Rey and I can’t possibly work together. I’m sorry to ruin your perfect article, but it’s true,’ he looked at Rey and gave a regretful sigh. ‘Rey and I might have been married, but we’ve never - never, ever - had sex.’

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you next Friday, if you’re sticking with me on this one.xx


	6. Meant to Be

Rey’s head was pounding. 

Unbelievably, she was still hungover, thanks to all those late-night margaritas, and her run-in with Ben had pushed her even further into physical pain. Of course, there was an emotional pain there too, brimming somewhere under her hard exterior, but that was a pain she wasn’t willing to tap into just yet. No, no, no, for that kind of self-torture she was going to need an industrial sized box of tissues, three packets of chocolate hobnobs and all five Downton Abbey Christmas Specials on repeat in the background. That’s how bad that pain was going to be. 

But for now, trapped in a nail salon somewhere on First Avenue, her hands pinned to the table by a capable looking Austrian woman with the kind of physique Armitage happily described as ‘strapping’, Rey was despondent and tired. As she sat, mulling on the absolute shit show that had been her life to date, while her fingers were painfully filed down by Johanna, her mind kept returning to Ben. She couldn’t forget the look that had been in his eyes when he’d held her close and asked her why. Why she’d never signed those divorce papers, even after she’d walked away from him, even after she’d run back to London.

As though he hadn’t walked away first.

As though he hadn’t been the first of them to say it was a mistake.

Rey winced and bit her lip, closing her eyes against the pain and the past. When she opened them again, two pairs of eyes were gazing in her direction, one set bright with excitement, the other downcast, almost awkward.

Finn looked bewildered, more than a little hurt, and Rey wasn’t sure what to say to him. He was supposed to be her best friend, and yet, she’d never told him about Ben. Never told him about Paris. With Finn, it was as if her life had been nothing but an empty void before she’d moved into his flat, as though nothing of interest or relevance had ever occurred before he’d come into her life. He was clearly dismayed, even a little upset, and she wasn’t sure how to talk to him. But then, she wasn’t sure she knew how to talk to anyone right then.

Not that this stopped Armitage. ‘So, Rey,’ the red-head began, one hand extended gracefully to a manicurist, ‘let’s talk.’

‘I’d rather not,’ Rey said bluntly.

‘Now Rey, that’s not the attitude to have,’ Armitage replied. ‘We’re your friends,’ he wheedled. 

Rey raised a sceptical eyebrow and Armitage sighed. ‘Fine, fine, okay, well, Finn is your friend, and -’

‘Leave me out of this,’ Finn muttered, pulling his phone from his pocket and tapping at it irritably. 

Rey looked at him pleadingly, but he kept his head down, avoiding her eyes.

‘I’m your manager,’ Armitage carried on heedlessly. ‘That’s almost like being your friend, Rey.’

‘Before this trip came up you only ever spoke to me once, and that was to ask me to get you a low-fat blueberry muffin,’ Rey answered.

Armitage shrugged. ‘Okay, so don’t talk to me as a friend. Talk to me as your boss. Talking helps. Talking heals,’ he said earnestly. ‘Talking hearts, Rey, talking hearts.’

Rey eyed him warily. ‘Armitage, I went to that same bullshit staff-bonding day you did, remember? ‘Talking Hearts’… it was such a load of crap. Not that it even matters. I’m not talking about Ben,’ she said sternly. 

She knew there weren’t enough words in her vocabulary to help heal or heart that pain.

But Armitage was like a well-groomed dog with a bone. ‘Rey, I just have a few tiny questions. Answer them, and I’ll never query you again.’

‘I find that hard to believe.’

‘Honestly, Rey,’ Finn suddenly interrupted, his voice hard. ‘You and I have lived together for what... five years? And you never mentioned Ben in all that time. And that look he gave you this morning when we left... I’m not sure whether he wanted to kiss you or kill you. I’m angry with you, but I’m worried sick about you at the same time. So, for God’s sake, tell us what’s going on.’

‘Exactly,’ Armitage nodded. ‘We’re worried for you, Rey. So worried. And after all, it’s not like you have a family to worry about you anymore. It’s just us. So, talk. Tell us every little detail,’ his eyes glinted wickedly. ‘Don’t leave anything out.’

Rey rolled her eyes, as she did when anyone dared to bring up her unfortunate family status. ‘Cheap shot, guys, but I’m still not talking about him.’

Rey turned back to Johanna, who was holding up two different colours of nail polish. ‘Boudoir Red or Virgin Blue?’ the manicurist asked.

‘Now there’s a question,’ Finn said under his breath, but Armitage sat bolt upright, looking Rey firmly in the eye, seething with indignation.

‘No,’ he said tightly. ‘Buff first, and then the colour,’ he turned to Rey sharply. ‘My God, Rey, last year Gloss dedicated a whole issue to the perfect manicure. Don’t you remember?’

Rey sighed. ‘You mean the issue where I had to write an article about how to keep your nail polish from chipping while giving an unforgettable hand job? Yes, I remember. In great detail.’

‘Well then,’ Armitage chided. ‘You should know to always buff before applying colour. Honestly.’

Rey shook her head. ‘I keep telling you that I don’t want my nails buffed.’

Armitage rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, my sweet little Rey,’ he chuckled. ‘I think your nails, just like your sex-life, could probably do with a good buffing.’

‘Hey -’ Rey started to protest, before Finn tapped her on the shoulder.

‘You know Armitage isn’t going to give up until you spill the beans on… on everything,’ he told her quietly. ‘Armitage has a big expense account and that uncanny Irish ability to hold his liquor. How many Duchess Kate cocktails will it take before you tell him everything? Completely drunk, no holds barred?’

Rey stared at him, but he only shrugged.

‘You might as well tell him now,’ he carried on. ‘Besides, if this in any way is going to impact upon your work then you should be telling him. Armitage is your boss, after all, and now he’s...’ Finn paused, his brow furrowing. ‘I guess he’s his boss too. He works for him now.’

There was no need to elaborate on who ‘he’ was.

Rey closed her eyes again, exhaling slowly. 

Because yes, they had her there. And this wasn’t just her career they were talking about now. It was Ben’s too now. And she knew he loved writing, almost as much as she did. She couldn’t do anything that might cost him his job.

Not when he’d already lost so many other things in his life.

‘Look,’ she said softly. ‘Nothing that happened between Ben and I will affect our work. Not from either of us. If anything, we always worked better together.’

‘You mean, together together?’ Finn asked, clearly looking for clarification. 

‘No, no, we never collaborated, or anything like that. We just...’ and now Rey opened her eyes again, because keeping them closed was too damn painful. Eyes closed, she felt as though at any moment she might wake and find herself back in Paris, buried in Ben’s bed, his shirt on her back and the snow cold against the window. Even from the distance of eight years, she could taste the past in the air, that comforting smell of coffee brewing and croissants baking. She could feel Ben’s lips in her hair and the luxury of having him breathe on her skin, sharp inhales skirting over her stomach, with warm exhales against her hip. And more than anything, she remembered the torturous effort it took to just wait. To wait for them to be ready. To wait for the right day. To wait for the right moment.

How strange it was now to realise that even with the right man, the right moment had never come. 

How strange, how sad, and how bitter.

Rey straightened. ‘We were just better when we were close. It was like proximity to one another made us both more industrious. When I was in a room with Ben, the words seemed to just leap from my mind to my pen and then the paper. And he was the same. Even the worst writer’s block could be broken by just touching each other. He was forever putting his hands on me. A brush against my hand here, a touch on my back there. Every time he laid a finger on my skin, it was like...’ Rey paused, searching for the right word. ‘It was like drinking at a creativity fountain. It was like feeling a little piece of heaven. It just felt... right.’

Rey looked up and at Finn. He looked unaccountably crestfallen, and Rey felt a dart of pain. He was clearly wounded, clearly hurting, and she didn’t know what she could do or say to make things between them better. To make them right again. Next to him, Armitage’s face was sharper, and Rey watched as he tapped his beautifully polished fingers against the counter thoughtfully.

‘Well, why the hell didn’t you fuck then?’ Armitage asked abruptly, and Rey blushed.

‘Armitage!’ Finn snapped.

‘I’m sorry, but it has to be asked. I mean, come on Finn, let me put it this way: if you and Rey here were together - ’

Finn inhaled sharply, and Rey’s eyes snapped up to him. A thought suddenly struck her, worrying and unpalatable, and she looked at him questioningly. He immediately looked down, avoiding her gaze, and Rey swallowed, before glancing back at Armitage. But Armitage, still tapping his fingernails, didn’t seem to notice the moment that passed between them. 

‘- and every time she touched you it was like a little piece of heaven, I’m going to bet you would never let her wear pants again.’

Finn shifted uncomfortably. ‘This is inappropriate, Armitage.’

Armitage rolled his eyes. ‘You’re my assistant, Finn. We’ve spoken about worse than this before.’

Finn looked down. ‘I was just, you know… I don’t want to make Rey feel uncomfortable,’ he finished lamely, and Rey felt for him.

‘Oh,’ Armitage paused, his fingers stilling, looking at Rey curiously. ‘Oh, well, then… okay.’

‘Okay?’ Finn repeated, his voice blank.

‘Yes. I wouldn’t want her to be uncomfortable either,’ Armitage continued. ‘Obviously I’m your manager and boundaries have to be maintained. I should keep discussions pertaining to my staff professional and non-sexual.’ 

‘Oh,’ Finn exhaled. ‘Oh.’

Armitage shrugged, turning away from him. ‘Non-sexual. Which brings us straight back to you, Rey.’

Rey stiffened. ‘Does it?’

‘Of course. I have to say, Ben Solo isn’t at all a bad man to look at. He’s got that dark-eyed, dark-haired Gilbert Blythe look to him and - ’

‘Gilbert Blythe?’ Rey interrupted. ‘Did you honestly just make an Anne of Green Gables reference?’

‘Yes,’ Armitage replied with a grin. He leaned in closer to Rey. ‘Look, I haven’t told anyone else yet, but for Gloss magazine’s 15th anniversary later this year we’re doing a ‘classics’ issue. You know, classic cars, classic men, classic books… that kind of thing.’

‘Well, that… actually, that sounds okay,’ Rey mused. ‘That’s a really good idea, in fact.’

‘Yes, of course it is,’ Armitage said dismissively, picking up a bottle of nail polish and examining it blithely. ‘By the way, I’m going to need you to write an article about who would be the best lay… Mr Rochester, Mr Darcy or Heathcliff.’

‘What? No - ’ Rey protested, but Armitage waved his hand.

‘We all know it would be Mr Rochester,’ he explained. ‘But you’re a good writer. I know you’ll make it look like we at least gave the other two a fighting chance. Anyway, back to Mr Solo. You know, he’s not a bad-looking man, Rey. He has money. He has connections. He clearly, you know… loved you, or something…’ Armitage trailed off, a faint frown evident on his face as he struggled with the concept.

‘He didn’t love me,’ Rey replied quietly, and she saw Finn’s eyes flicker momentarily. 

‘Well, okay, so not love,’ Armitage offered. ‘But he must have cared for you to have married you. So, tell me, with all that, why didn’t you sleep with him? Are you still a virgin?’

‘No!’ Rey exclaimed, blushing the same colour as the ‘Boudoir Red’ nail polish Armitage was holding. ‘No, I’m not a virgin but… but Armitage, I don’t think I should have to answer either of those questions,’ she exhaled.

Armitage shrugged. ‘Look, Rey, of course it’s none of our business. Not really. But you must acknowledge the relevance of them in this matter. In five years, Finn here has seen you date man after man but in all that time, you’ve apparently never had one stay overnight.’

‘Finn!’ Rey cried, turning to her roommate. He held up his hands.

‘I was worried about you,’ he said quietly. ‘I wanted advice. I only mentioned it once, at hot yoga, and - ’

‘I was thinking about it all the way here,’ Armitage interrupted him, so smoothly it was like Finn had never even spoken. ‘Once upon a time you were married to Ben Solo, and you haven’t slept with another man since.’

‘Well,’ Rey flushed further. ‘What of it?’

‘Rey,’ Armitage started, his tone suddenly gentle. ‘Are you still in love with him?’

A hush fell over the salon, and Rey swallowed hard. Finn was watching her, his eyes hot on her skin, and she suddenly realised that every person within a five metre radius had been listening to their conversation, and that all were waiting, with bated breath, for her response. Even Johanna, her manicurist, had put down her nail file, and was looking at her expectantly. 

‘No, look, I -’ she started to fluster.

Armitage’s mouth fell open. ‘Oh. My. Sweet. Lord.’

‘Armitage, it isn’t -’

‘You’re still in love with him,’ Armitage breathed. ‘You’re in love with Ben Solo. This is brilliant, honestly, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Oh,’ he grabbed Rey’s hands, his eyes shining. ‘Oh, please, please, please document it when you do get down and dirty with him. Please, please, please. The article would be brilliant. We could call it… hmm… ‘Awakening, with Ben and Rey’.’ 

‘That sounds like porn,’ Rey shuddered.

‘You’re right,’ Armitage agreed. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers. ‘I’ve got it. We’ll call it ‘Sex with my Ex; The Seven Year Itch’.’

Johanna picked up her nail file again. ‘I would read that,’ she said as she went back to Rey’s cuticles.

‘Of course, you would. Anyone would. Finn,’ Armitage reached for his phone. ‘Put a note in my diary to commission an article about the sex thing. Oh, and Finn, delete that earlier appointment to take Rey out for muffins, and replace it with an appointment to take Rey out for muffins  _ and  _ to visit the grown-up girl section of the bookshop.’

He winked at her. Dumbfounded, Rey looked to Finn, who was staring at her, his eyes wide.

‘You really never had sex with him? The man you married? The man you’re…’ he paused, clearly struggling. ‘The man you’re in love with?’

Rey looked down. ‘I wanted to,’ she confessed.

‘Did he?’ Finn asked.

Rey bit on her lip. She remembered that one time, after Ben’s illness, when - still hot and half-feverish and high on pain meds - he’d taken her to bed. And really taken her to bed, not the innocent cuddling, companionable bed-sharing or passionate kissing they’d done up to that point. No, he’d thrown her on his bed, pulled her nightgown over her head and gone for her body like a man starved. He’d kissed her and licked her and bitten her, letting months of pent-up desire free. And he only stopped - he only stopped when he... when he...

Rey took a shaky breath. ‘He wanted to.’

‘You wanted to, and he wanted to,’ Armitage mused, shaking his head. ‘Rey, I’m confused here. Why didn’t you?’

‘Because it wasn’t supposed to be us,’ she said sadly. ‘It was meant to be me and Liam, and Ben and - ’

‘Liam?’ Finn interjected. ‘Who the hell is Liam?’

‘He was... my boyfriend, once upon a time,’ Rey admitted, the words like ash on her tongue. ‘And it was supposed to be him.’

Armitage laid a hand against her shoulder, and Rey glanced up at him in surprise. It was the reassuring gesture of one friend to another, and she would never have equated the hard-headed Armitage Hux with anything so mundane as friendship. ‘It’s okay, Rey,’ Armitage said kindly. ‘We’re here for you. Why wasn’t it this... Liam then? What happened?’

Rey sighed. ‘Paris happened,’ she said. ‘Paris, and then Ben.’

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, Part Two and we go back in time to Paris (which was always my favourite section of this story and I’m so happy to share it again) x


	7. It Had to be Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Rey. She never gets a happy background, does she?

**August, 2009**

**London**

They were sharing a tiny bedsit in Vauxhall. It was dirty, mouldy and overpriced, their bed nothing more than a mattress on the floor. Outside, the summer sun had been beating down hot and as such the room was stifling, the air humid, musty, and smelling vaguely of sweat, of too many human bodies cramped into one space.

But Rey didn’t care.

‘I know it’s not much,’ Liam told her, as Rey stared at her new home. ‘But this is all we can afford, just now. Once we’re both working, once we have reliable incomes, we’ll move somewhere better. Somewhere with an actual bedroom,’ he promised her. 

But Rey turned to him with bright eyes. ‘It’s wonderful,’ she said, throwing her arms around him.

‘No, it’s not. But hey, at least it isn’t the dorms,’ Liam added, hugging her back. ‘I’m glad to be away from there.’

‘It wasn’t so bad,’ Rey replied, thinking fondly of their university, of the single bed in the single room she’d called her own for three years. She hugged Liam tighter.

‘We’ll get some nice sheets,’ Liam said, disentangling from her arms and pulling away. ‘A candle or two, some posters on the wall. We’ll make it liveable.’

‘We’ll do more than that,’ Rey said, looking around. ‘We’ll make it a home.’

She said the word fondly, with such hope and love in her heart that it was a wonder she hadn’t burst with the joy of it. A home. Their own home. Rey sighed, for she hadn’t had one of those for a while. Not since her father had been taken to the hospice like a doe-eyed child, his mind no longer his own. He hadn’t waved goodbye - he hadn’t known to wave goodbye, hadn’t known by then that he even had a child – and Rey spent three days emptying the bungalow in which she’d spent her childhood before putting it on the market. She’d moved into a bed and breakfast while she finished her A-levels, and then, when she got her place at University, went straight into dorms.

So, when she looked at this tiny room, she didn’t see the dirt that Liam saw, the stained mattress, or the window that was caked with grime. She saw promise and optimism and four walls of potential. She saw a tiny balcony she could fill with plants, and a kitchenette in which she could bake. She saw a bed she could cover with cushions, and a desk where she could write. 

A home. A real home again. Just for them. 

Unexpectedly, her eyes filled with tears and she choked back a sob. She wiped at her cheeks frantically, trying to compose herself, trying to swallow back her emotions, but it was too late. Liam looked over, saw her weeping, and sighed.

‘Come on, Rey. It’s not that bad,’ he said, misunderstanding the cause of her tears. ‘I told you, it’s only for a little while.’

‘No, it’s not that,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I’m just… I’m happy, is all.’

‘Happy?’ Liam asked, scratching his head and looking around at their bedsit once more. ‘I don’t know why.’

It was different for Liam, obviously. His Mum and Dad were both still alive and of sound mind, and he always had a home to go to, if he wanted. He’d taken Rey there once, the year they first started dating, once he realised at Christmas that she had nowhere else to go. His parents had been kind, if a little stiff, and his sisters had hardly noticed her, constantly texting on their phones. But still, Rey watched as they exchanged gifts under their artfully decorated tree, and she ate her Christmas lunch quietly as they regaled family jokes. It was turkey, covered in a thick, almost stodgy gravy, and Rey picked around the sauce carefully.

But Liam’s mother had sharp eyes, and she put down her own fork to gaze at Rey evenly.

‘You don’t like the food, Rey?’

‘No, it’s lovely,’ Rey lied, swallowing a mouthful.

‘Really? It’s just you’ve been pushing that bit of meat around your plate for fifteen minutes now.’

Rey coloured, feeling a small dart of worry. 

His mother had been watching her eat for  _ fifteen minutes. _

‘Rey isn’t used to this kind of food,’ Liam chirped in, through a mouth full of potato. ‘You always had different food at Christmas, didn’t you Rey?’

‘Different food?’ his mother had asked, raising an eyebrow at her. ‘But it’s Christmas day. How different can the food be?’

‘Oh, well, umm, my mother was Swiss,’ Rey explained. ‘We, umm, always followed her traditions at Christmas.’

‘Swiss?’ Liam’s father had asked, suddenly animated. ‘German Swiss or French Swiss?’

‘Oh, umm -’ Rey began, but he laughed, shaking his head at her.

‘Not that it matters,’ he said, ‘French or German… they’re both as bad as the other.’

Rey opened her mouth to speak, but it didn’t matter. Liam’s father had already fallen into a spiel about Germans and the European Union and she was side-lined, the family for the most part ignoring her, leaving her to pick at her turkey in silence. 

She was never invited to their home again.

Not that it mattered, she told herself. Not now that she and Liam had this home here, together at last.

‘It’s lovely,’ she told Liam again, her voice firm. Wiping all the remnants of her tears away, she smiled at him. ‘This place is going to be great. Everything is going to be great.’

Armed only with her English degree, Rey found work as an intern at a small, Essex newspaper. It was unpaid, more like work experience than an actual job, and she spent more time making coffee and answering phone calls than she cared to admit to. In order to pay her share of the rent, she worked nights at a pub near the bedsit, pulling pints and serving crisps until one in the morning. She would spill into bed at two, thoroughly exhausted, pulling Liam’s arms around her. He’d be warm, his face slack with sleep, and she would envy him his rest. 

He was working as an intern over in the city, but with two loving parents to financially support him, there was no need for him to work evenings like Rey did. Instead, he spent his free time socialising with his new workmates or going out for dinner.

‘You should bring them to the pub one night,’ Rey suggested. ‘So I can meet them. I hate that there’s this whole part of your life that I don’t know about.’

But Liam shook his head. ‘Nah. We’re too far out here.’

‘It’s Vauxhall,’ Rey replied quietly. ‘It’s Zone 1. We’re not that far out.’

But Liam gave her a regretful smile. ‘We’re on the wrong side of the river for most of them, Rey. Look, take a night off sometime and then you can meet me after work.’

But Rey sighed. ‘I can’t,’ she said honestly. ‘If I take a night off, I won’t make rent.’

‘So, use some of the money from the sale of your parent’s house,’ Liam shrugged. ‘Your Dad wouldn’t want you to be working this hard.’

Rey chewed on her lip, but remained quiet.

There was nothing to be said. That money was to pay for her Dad’s care. She couldn’t bear the thought of him going into a government facility, even in his confused state. She’d heard terrible stories about those places, stories of patients left unattended, of personal goods pilfered, of food uncooked and even denied. So, even though the cost of the private hospice was crippling, even though she sometimes woke up in a sweat, worrying about how she would ever pay for his long-term care, she refused to move him. 

Rey had little free time, and what little income she had was eaten up by her extortionate rent and travel costs. Still, she made the best of her situation, buying bright bedding for their mattress and some posters for their walls. They were only cheap, throwaway pictures, mostly foreign cityscapes and famous art, but Rey liked to gaze at them before she fell asleep, clearing her mind. 

‘Who’s that?’ Liam said, pointing at one of them. It was one of those increasingly rare Sundays where he was home and Rey’s shift at the pub hadn’t yet begun, and she was trying to catch up on her washing and her budgeting all at once, standing by her desk, a pen in one hand, a pile of dirty shirts under the crook of her arm.

‘What?’ she asked, distracted.

‘That picture,’ Liam replied. ‘The black and white photo. Do you like, know her or something?’

Rey gazed up, smiling at the familiar image.

‘That’s Leia Organa,’ she said, somewhat irked Liam didn’t seem to know her. 

‘Leia Organa?’ 

‘My hero,’ Rey replied dreamily. ‘She was an investigative journalist, and wrote all these amazing articles back in the 70’s and 80’s. She interviewed Golda Meir, and John Lennon, and Margaret Thatcher, and even Diana Fossey, among, God, so many others,’ Rey smiled again. ‘She was amazing.’

Liam stared at the photo on the wall. ‘What happened to her?’

Rey sighed. ‘She got married, had kids.’

‘Gave up the day job then?’ Liam smirked.

‘No,’ Rey bristled. ‘Actually, she ended up founding The Liberal Statesman with wealth.’

‘I’ve never heard of it.’

‘It’s this left-leaning, hard-hitting publication. After she died her husband and daughter took over the running of it.’

Liam shrugged. ‘Leftist and preachy,’ he said dismissively. ‘No thanks.’

Rey bit her lip. It was her dream to write for The Liberal Statesman. How could Liam not have known that? She stared at him, momentarily distracted from her workload, suddenly feeling deeply uncertain. Liam, as though sensing her eyes upon him, looked up.

‘And who’s that one?’ he asked, nodding to another print on the wall.

‘Which one?’ 

‘The painting one… with the girl wearing the turban on her head.’

‘It’s not a turban,’ Rey corrected him. ‘That’s The Valpinḉon Bather,’ she added. ‘She’s famous.’

Liam frowned at the poster. ‘She’s naked.’

‘Well, yes,’ Rey said, ‘but all you see is her back, it’s not obscene or anything.’

Liam sighed, falling onto their sofa with a yawn. ‘It’s a little weird that you’ve tacked up an image of a naked woman over our bed, Rey.’

Rey laughed. ‘She’s beautiful,’ she told him. ‘Look at her. Look at the slope of her shoulders, that hint of her legs. It’s wonderful. Did you know that the painter, Jean Auguste Ingres, actually studied under Jacques-Louis David?’ 

But Liam’s had already closed his eyes, and Rey suspected his ears were now just as shut to her. Still, she cleared her throat, putting her pen down. ‘She’s in the Louvre,’ Rey carried on quietly. ‘I’ve never been, you know.’

Liam opened one eye, yawning again. ‘I have.’

‘I know, but I thought that… well, that maybe we should… go together? Sometime in the future, I mean, not now or anything,’ Rey suggested awkwardly.

‘You can’t afford Paris,’ Liam’s reply was immediate. ‘The Eurostar alone would cost a bomb, Rey.’

‘Right,’ Rey nodded. She picked up her pen again, shifting her washing to the basket on the floor. ‘Forget it. It doesn’t matter.’

At that, Liam looked up. ‘One day, yeah Rey? When we’re earning money. Real money. Not the pennies that the pub are paying you.’

She nodded again, but kept her mouth shut. Looking at her print of The Valpinḉon Bather once more, she gave a rueful smile. Liam was right. She couldn’t afford Paris. Biting on her lip, she glanced at her budget with dismay.

She couldn’t afford much of anything at all.

But at least she had Liam, and these four walls. Her little home. And perhaps that was enough.

It had to be enough.

***

Once, one of the Lithuanian women who lived downstairs asked Rey if she and Liam were a couple, and Rey paused.

‘Of course, I thought it was obvious,’ she said.

But the Lithuanian shrugged. ‘I wasn’t so sure.’

For the first time, Rey considered their relationship. Certainly, Liam kissed her like she’d seen other boys kiss their girlfriends, and she found his kisses pleasant, and always welcomed them. When they went to bed, it was always tolerable – perhaps a little awkward, perhaps a little uncomfortable – but it was nice to feel close to him, to be held and loved and kissed and made to feel special. 

But Liam didn’t set her blood afire like she’d read about in the romance novels she occasionally snaffled from her university roommates. He didn’t make her insides melt, or her heart pound, or her legs turn to jelly. 

But then, maybe real love was different from storybook romance, Rey reasoned. Maybe real men were different from the fairy-tale prince. And she knew she loved Liam. He represented comfort, and home, and all the promises of things she had long been denied. Of course, it was always going to be Liam. There was never going to be anyone else for her. How could there be?

She mentioned marriage once, and once only. Liam had flushed, before telling her that he wanted to wait. ‘We’re only twenty-one,’ he’d told her. ‘We’re too young to get married. Besides, my parents would kill me.’

‘I didn’t mean we should get married now,’ Rey said, almost sadly. ‘I just wanted to… look, we’ve been together three years. I want to plan my future, and I want to plan it with you. I just need to know that we’re on the same page… that eventually, we’ll want the same things.’ 

Liam gave her a quick peck on the cheek. ‘Course we want the same things, Rey. This is you and me, you know? We’ll do what’s right for us, when we’re ready. Marriage, a house, whatever. A garden, because I know all about you and your plants. We just need to wait.’

‘Alright,’ she agreed, her voice small. She was young enough to agree, to promise to wait for him. Because it was always going to be Liam. How could there be anyone else? No one had ever been there for her before. No one would be there for her afterwards. There was only Liam. There would only ever be Liam. He was the only person she had left in the world.

***

The letter came when they were least expecting it. An invitation to complete a master’s degree at the University of Dundee. For a time, Rey and Liam stared at the leaflet in his hand, this simple letter, just a sheet of paper with hastily printed words written across it. So cheap, so worthless in the flesh. But worth so much in promise. 

‘It’s only for a year,’ Liam told her. 

‘I didn’t even know you’d applied,’ Rey replied, swallowing hard.

‘My Mum and Dad think it’ll look good on my C.V,’ he shrugged. ‘They’re happy to pay the fees. And besides, Dundee’s not so far away.’

‘Scotland,’ Rey breathed. 

Liam only shrugged. ‘A few hours by train. That’s all.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ Rey immediately offered, trying hard to keep the desperation from her voice. But Liam shook his head.

‘There’s space in the dorms for me alone, not partners or family,’ he said. ‘And what will you do? There’s no work in Dundee, not for you.’

‘There are call-centres, and waitressing, and -’

But Liam shook his head. ‘No. You want to be a journalist, Rey, not a waitress. I can’t let you give up your internship, not for me. Stay here.’ 

Rey worked her bottom lip between her teeth. ‘You’ll visit?’ she asked, her voice small.

Liam nodded. ‘As often as I can, Rey.’

She nodded. What else could she do? She had no choice, really.

It felt like for most of her life, she’d never really had a choice. 

People came, and people – almost invariably – always went away.

That was just the way it was.

***

Liam’s parents had paid for his share of the rent up till the end of their lease, but even so, without him there to share the cost of utilities, insurance and food, Rey found her income stretched even further. So much so that she began to worry about how she would make it through the winter, aware that she was probably going to have to make a daily choice between heating, power or food. 

One evening, a knock sounded on her door. Rey answered it, surprised to see the Lithuanian girl from downstairs on her doorstep, a plant in her hand.

‘Here,’ the girl said, handing the plant to Rey. ‘The office I was temping at went out of business today. They told me to take what I wanted from my desk. This was there when I started, but you should have it. I’m not good with greenery,’ she smiled. ‘But I know you are. I’ve seen your balcony.’ 

Rey smiled weakly, suddenly feeling tearful. No one had brought her anything, had given her anything, for such a long time.

‘Thank you,’ she said, clutching the plant. ‘This is so kind of you... umm… I’m sorry, I don’t know your name - ’

‘Karolina.’

‘Karolina,’ Rey repeated back. ‘Thank you.’

Unexpectedly, Karolina frowned. ‘Are you alright?’ 

‘Yes, of course, why wouldn’t I be?’

Karolina shrugged. ‘It is just that it is very cold down here.’

Rey felt herself grow flush. ‘Sorry, I, umm, can’t afford the heating these days.’

Karolina nodded, looking at Rey curiously. ‘He is gone, your boyfriend?’

‘He went back to school,’ Rey said quietly. ‘It’s only for a year though,’ she added, as though elaboration was necessary, as though Karolina cared.

‘Oh,’ Karolina crossed her arms. ‘What is it that you do?’

‘I’m interning at a newspaper,’ Rey said, leaning back against her door. ‘But I work nights at The Royal Oak, down by the station.’

‘Yes, of course. I know it.’

‘Umm, what do you do?’ Rey asked.

Karolina shrugged. ‘I temp. Office work here, some retail there,’ she straightened, looking at Rey with new interest. ‘You should temp too. I’m sure it would pay better than the pub.’

‘I can’t,’ Rey replied honestly, as though she hadn’t already considered it. ‘I intern all day. Temp hours don’t suit that.’

‘Well, maybe when your internship has finished, yes?’

Rey shrugged. ‘I’m hoping to have found a job in the media by then,’ she gave a wry smile. ‘One that pays better than the pub, at least.’

But life, it seemed, was never that kind. Three months after Liam left, Rey’s internship finished, and she was out of work. The newspaper she’d been working at were regretful, writing her a glowing reference and giving her the details of recruitment agencies that might be of use to her. But full-time jobs at their paper were scarce, and there just wasn’t space for her on their team. 

‘Try Dominion Corp,’ her editor said. ‘They’re big. They might have a place for you.’

But no matter how many C.V’s Rey sent out, the response was always the same: ‘Thanks, but no thanks.’

Desperate, Rey finally joined the agency Karolina temped for, and was quickly given work childminding two small girls for a busy city worker and his put-upon wife. To her surprise, Rey found she didn’t hate it. She liked the little girls, liked being in their house, enjoying the day-to-day family atmosphere of the place. And the girls liked her, telling her all their little secrets, inviting her into their games.

A month and then another passed by, and the city-worker discovered his work was relocating him to Paris. Rey, recalling her own mother, began to teach the girls French, so much so that one day the mother asked if she was fluent.

‘Yes,’ Rey admitted. ‘My mother was Swiss. I speak French and German, a little Italian too.’

Momentarily, the woman looked at Rey as if she’d grown a second head. ‘I’m going to need a nanny,’ she finally said, recovering herself. ‘Look Rey, I like you, and my girls like you, and you speak French. Come with us.’

‘To Paris?’ Rey asked, her mouth hanging open.

‘Yes, Paris.’

‘Oh, but I couldn’t possibly go to Paris,’ Rey protested, immediately thinking of Liam.

But the woman shook her head. ‘Why not? We’ll find you a nice flat near our house. Give you a proper salary. Good working hours. Think about it, Rey.’

That night, Rey phoned Liam. 

‘Hey,’ he said, his voice warm and reassuring, simply for being his. Instantly, Rey relaxed, and told him all about Paris.

‘You should go,’ Liam said, when she fell quiet.

Rey felt a dart of shock. ‘What?’ she whispered.

‘You should go,’ Liam said again, ‘it would be good for you.’

‘But I’m not…’ she paused, looking up at the photo of Leia Organa on her wall. ‘I’m not a nanny, Liam. I’m a writer.’

‘Not a paid one,’ Liam replied, with a blunt sort of cruelty that made Rey wince. ‘But you’d get paid for being a nanny, Rey.’

Rey chewed on her lip. ‘You really think I should go?’

‘Yeah,’ Liam said. ‘It’s paid work, better hours, and you’ll get holiday time. Besides - ’ he stopped for a moment and the line was suddenly muffled, before it cleared, and Rey heard someone laugh in the background.

‘Who was that?’ she asked, almost nervous, but Liam was quick to reassure her.

‘No one,’ he said smoothly. ‘Go to Paris. You’ve always wanted to go.’

‘Yes, but - ’

‘You might as well,’ Liam interrupted her abruptly. ‘The lease is nearly up on your flat - ’

‘Our flat,’ Rey corrected him.

For a moment, the line was quiet. ‘Rey,’ now, Liam’s voice was firm. ‘You should go. You can’t afford to stay in Vauxhall. You can’t afford to stay in London. Go to Paris.’

‘Okay,’ Rey nodded, though she knew Liam couldn’t see the gesture. ‘Okay,’ she swallowed. ‘I suppose it won’t be for long. Your degree will be finished by next July, right?’

‘Right,’ Liam agreed. ‘Look, I have to go, but you should really think about going to Paris, Rey. It’ll be good for you.’ 

Rey didn’t need to think about it. Not anymore. Liam was in Dundee, and her father didn’t recognise her. There was no one else to consider. 

It scared her sometimes, when she thought about how alone in the world she truly was.

So, she said yes.

She moved to Paris.

She found a flat, a small loft space. 

There was a neighbour downstairs. An American. 

And one day he came to her door, complained about the noise her shoes made on the floorboards. 

And Rey looked into his eyes, and suddenly her heart was pounding, her blood ran hot, and her legs felt weak. 

Because this was the fairy-tale prince from her storybooks.

And suddenly, just like that, Liam and the life he’d promised her just didn’t seem like enough.

She wanted more. 

And she hated herself for feeling that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Past Ben and Rey finally meet in the next chapter, I promise. X


	8. The Girl Upstairs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a massive chapter. I just couldn’t find a place to cut it, so I’m leaving it as it is. I’ll be doing a sparrow update next, but another chapter of Pressed will be here next Friday.

Ben thought he might hate the girl upstairs.

He hadn’t even seen her, not really. Just fleeting glimpses on the stairwell, a flash of brown hair, long fingers wrapped around the bannister. 

But he heard her. He heard her all the damn time.

He’d been living in Paris for three months when she’d moved in. He was renting the second-floor apartment of a building in the Dixième arrondissement of the city, a pleasant enough place, close but not too close to the tourist centre. His sister couldn’t understand why he didn’t simply live in the apartment they owned in the Élysée, but as Ben kept telling her, that would have been beside the point. He didn’t want to live in a plush and elegant apartment with other wealthy expats and jet-setters. He didn’t want a doorman who would speak with him in English, find him cars to take him to the best shops, the best restaurants, and the best galleries. He didn’t want to have a respectable affair with the daughter of an American diplomat, or the progeny of a Russian oligarch. He didn’t want Paris to be easy.

He didn’t deserve easy.

He wanted Paris to be different. Not hard, not easy, but just... life, as it came to him, without the silver spoon of the Solo name or money in his mouth. He wanted to drink coffee in a pavement cafe, the French sun on his back. He wanted to pad around his basic apartment, wearing clothes without a label, while working on his novel. He wanted to have sex with earthy French women, girls who would please him for a month or two before he moved on to the next affair. He wanted to drink late into the night with philosophers, artists and revolutionaries.

He tried to explain this to Jaina, who only rolled her eyes. ‘You don’t want to go to Paris,’ she sneered. ‘You want to go to Paris in 1931.’

‘Mom loved Paris,’ Ben replied. ‘Her best work was written in Paris.’

‘You’re different to Mom,’ Jaina said, before her face softened. She looked at him curiously. ‘Paris isn’t far from London, you know.’

‘I know,’ Ben met her eyes warily. 

‘Only a train ride,’ Jaina carried on. ‘Maybe you should go back. Might do you good, give you some closure - ’

‘I don’t need closure,’ Ben snapped, interrupting her. ‘I just need to get away.’

‘From New York? From your work?’

‘From everything,’ Ben finished bitterly, and Jaina sighed.

‘Your problems will follow you everywhere,’ she told him. ‘And you’re going to hate Paris because of them.’

Three months into his trip and Jaina was right, in a way. He didn’t love Paris like he thought he would, not like his mother had, but then again, he didn’t hate it either. The city was pretty enough during the day, and he enjoyed wandering around the busy streets, losing himself as much as a tall and broad American could in this place. He fought through the tourists to visit the galleries, before eating lunch in generic cafes, too scared of using French to order anything more exotic than a croissant and coffee. He drifted through his afternoons, napping through the worst of the summer heat, occasionally sitting on his small balcony to watch the sunset while drinking wine alone. As existences went, it wasn’t terrible. Paris during the day was fine, Ben told himself. 

Paris during the day was manageable.

But at night... at night… well, Ben really hated Paris by night. He hated sitting alone in his apartment, his television simply background noise to break the lonely silence. He hated looking at his laptop, seeing a blank document, waiting for words that just wouldn’t come. He hated looking out of his window, the lights of the city in the distance, feeling life happen to others while always passing him by. The city throbbed just outside his window, practically pulsing with life, while he sat alone in his apartment, and his loneliness – the loneliness he thought he would embrace - tore him apart. One night, driven to near insanity by the pulsing emptiness of his home, he found himself outside of the Gare du Nord, his fists clenched and shoulders taut, staring in at the station. The trains to London went from here, and he had to close his eyes - fighting for breath, his heart racing – to stop himself from vomiting right there in the street. He’d pulled himself together just enough to stumble into a local café, whereupon he’d ordered carafe after carafe of wine until he could no longer stand, no longer speak, no longer remember.

Yes, Ben hated everything about Paris at night, and every evening, just before he passed out with exhaustion, he told himself that this night would be his last night there. That tomorrow he would pack up his things, take a train out to Charles de Gaulle and get on the first flight back to New York.

But then tomorrow came, and he would linger in the morning light, unwilling to admit defeat. He didn’t pack, and he didn’t go to Charles de Gaulle. He didn’t call Jaina and admit to her that she was right.

Paris was fine, he told himself, again and again. Paris was what he needed. Paris was what he deserved, here in his self-imposed exile.

And then, out of the blue, out of nowhere, she moved in.

At first, he thought she might be the ideal neighbour. She arrived in mid-September with little fanfare, and absolutely no disruption to his life. One day, there was an  _ appartement à louer _ sign outside his building, and the next it was gone. At one point, she must have swept the stairwell, because the communal hall was suddenly cleaner, and smelt fresher. She kept an umbrella by the doorway, practical, black and sturdy, next to a floral pair of rain boots. The boots were a pink splash of colour in the dim lighting of their hallway that made him smile despite himself, and if she got home first she even brought up his mail, pushing it under his doorway on her way up the stairs to the loft. 

The ideal neighbour indeed.

Until the day she suddenly wasn’t. 

It was around early October when Ben realised that this girl mustn’t ever sleep. Because he could hear her, from around eight till three, dancing upstairs. It was a repetitive tapping on his ceiling that echoed into a loud thumping in his brain, and he would sit, clutching his wine, his nerves frayed, cursing her with every fibre of his being.

Because she was loud. She was just so damnably loud.

He lay in bed every night, hearing the pounding echo of her footsteps above him. He tossed and turned in his bed, every thought disrupted by the tap-tap-tap coming from his roof. He covered his head with his pillow, trying to drown her out. He plugged in his headphones, listening to music, or the sounds of the ocean, trying anything and everything to block out the sounds of her moving. But he could practically see the roof shaking, and his temper, which had never been tame, eventually got the better of him.

One night at around 2am, he flung off his bedcovers and slipped on his shoes, before grabbing his keys and marching upstairs, angrily rapping on her door.

When it opened, he saw her eyes widen in surprise. Because damn, in his anger he’d forgotten to put on a shirt, and he was standing before her dressed only in his sleep pants. He felt her eyes linger on his body before she shook her head, words falling from her mouth in a rapid stream of French.

‘Look, stop, I’m American,’ he finally said, rubbing a hand along his tired face. ‘Dammit, I mean, Je suis Américain… and... and…’

But then the girl nodded. ‘Oh,’ she said, in the kind of clipped British accent that made him sit up, his blood cooling rapidly. ‘Oh, you’re American?’

‘Yes,’ he replied, his throat suddenly painful and tight.

‘Oh,’ she said again, regarding him thoughtfully. ‘Well, I suppose you must still be on American time then?’

‘What? No, I’ve been here three months.’

‘That surprises me,’ she leaned against the doorway, looking at him squarely. ‘Because it’s 2am here, and some of us are trying to sleep. ’

‘What the fuck?’ He exploded. ‘I’m trying to sleep! You’re the one keeping me awake!’

She stared at him blankly. ‘I don’t see how that’s possible.’

‘You, fuck, you-’ in the face of her calm demeanour, he found words difficult. ‘You keep walking around- or dancing, or marching, or whatever the fuck it is you’re doing- and the sound from my apartment... it’s so fucking loud, and-’

‘You’re kidding me, right? I’ve been in bed since ten pm,’ she told him, crossing her arms. The movement made her sleep shirt ride high against her hips and Ben’s eyes drifted involuntarily down, taking in her long legs, tanned and smooth. They were athletic and attractive and he vaguely wondered what they would feel like wrapped around his waist.

‘Look,’ he spluttered, bringing his eyes swiftly back up to hers. ‘You don’t have to lie. Just quit... quit the moving around at night. Let me get some sleep.’

‘I’m not lying,’ she spat. ‘I’m on my feet twelve hours a day taking care of two small girls. I need my sleep if I’m going to function. And right now, you’re interrupting that time.’

‘You have kids?’ He asked, utterly appalled. Because how old was this girl? Twenty-four? Twenty-five? She couldn’t possibly be a mother. But then, maybe the kids were the ones making the noise. Maybe that was it. Or maybe, he thought with a degree of discomfort, her husband was the loud one.

But the girl rolled her eyes. ‘In this shoebox?’ she asked, gesturing vaguely to the room behind her. ‘No, I’m a nanny. And I need my sleep.’

‘Well, so do I,’ he said. ‘I’m a writer and - ’ 

‘You’re a writer?’ She abruptly straightened, a flicker of interest in her eyes. Eyes, Ben suddenly realised, that were a striking hazel. Eyes he could easily lose himself in, if he wanted to.

‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘I’m here to work on a novel and - ’

‘Look,’ she interrupted, the flicker gone, her eyes hard once more. ‘Does your novel need breakfast at 7.30 in the morning? Or dropping off at school at 8.45?’

‘No,’ he admitted, feeling somewhat shame-faced.

‘Well then, you’ll forgive me if I cut short this charming ‘say hello to the new neighbour’ routine you’ve got going and take myself back to bed.’

‘All I ask is that you keep it down, please,’ he begged. Unaccountably, he suddenly felt incredibly weary, his head aching, his eyes tired. He needed to get away from her. Because with every passing second, she was looking more and more delectable, and he knew he needed to either get laid or get some sleep. And with the way this girl was looking at him, like he was something she’d found under her shoe, he suspected sex would never be on the cards between them.

‘I was never keeping it up to begin with,’ she shrugged. ‘Talk to the landlord, if you think I’m a problem.’

Oh, she was a problem alright. But Ben grimaced, refusing to admit that he’d never spoken to their landlord, that Jaina’s assistant had set this place up for him.

‘Oh,’ the girl’s mouth suddenly turned upwards into a wicked smile. ‘Except… you don’t speak French, do you?’

Ben flushed a deep red. ‘I came up here thinking we could solve this like reasonable adults,’ he sneered at her. ‘Clearly I was mistaken.’

‘Clearly,’ she agreed. She licked her lips, lips that Ben could not stop looking at - what the fuck? - and regarded him thoughtfully. ‘Look, I’m a nice person. If you think I’m being loud, well, I’ll see what I can do. Now goodnight, Je suis Américain.’

‘No, wait-’ Ben started to protest, but she firmly closed her door in his face.

He didn’t go back to bed. He went back down to his apartment, made coffee, and opened his laptop. In one hour, he wrote two thousand words, stopping only when the sun started to break, the sky turning a hazy pink outside. He sat back, thoroughly stunned, and regarded his work. Intrinsically, he knew it was good. He ran a hand through his hair, staring at the beginning of his manuscript. Where the fuck had this come from? He asked himself, looking - almost with disbelief - at his roof. Because he knew where this flash of inspiration had come from. But before he could ponder this point any further, a loud thud sounded from above and he felt a familiar flash of anger. 

A nice person indeed. Clearly, she was deliberately trying to goad him now.

She didn’t bring his mail up after that. And she stopped sweeping the communal hallway, so that when fall arrived in full force there was a difficult build-up of mud and leaves outside his door. And the noise didn’t improve- if anything, she got louder, and for longer periods of time.

By mid-November, Ben was ready to kill her. If the cold didn’t first, that was.

Because Paris in winter, he quickly learned, was really fucking cold. He had his heating set to full blast and he bought extra layers, thick coats and woollen scarves and sturdy boots and even a vest – an actual fucking vest – that he was certain no man had worn since Clark Gable gave them up back in the 30’s. But that’s how fucking cold it was here. Cold enough to question Clark Gable’s fashion choices.

The snow started to fall in earnest, and Ben gave up leaving his apartment during the day. A cold snap had come over from Russia, blanketing Western Europe in thick layers of snow and ice, and half a continent - used to temperate weather - practically shut down. Trains stopped running, airports closed, buses became non-existent. Ben, never the most adept of people, made an awkward and deeply uncomfortable run to a supermarket to stock up on essentials before hunkering down to wait out the storm. 

Two days later, he heard a pitiful knock at his door. He answered it warily, because no one ever knocked on his door, and dear God, please don’t let it be his sister, here to lecture him once more on his life choices.

Because if anyone could get through a massive ice-storm without the use of any kind of transportation to make his life difficult, it would be Jaina Solo.

But it wasn’t his sister.

It was her.

The girl from upstairs.

She was standing before him, her teeth chattering, her lips nearly blue. Wrapped in a coarse blanket, her eyes were wide with uncertainty, and as he stared at her in shock she seemed to falter momentarily. But it was for just a moment, before she seemed to recover and stood taller, setting her face into firm lines. Still, he continued to stare at her, uncertain of what to do or say.

‘Please,’ she eventually whimpered. ‘Please,’ she said again, ‘my plants...’

For the first time, he noticed the pot plants clutched in her shaking arms, and without a second thought he ushered her into the warmth of his apartment, taking the plants from her frozen hands and putting them on his desk.

‘What’s going on?’ he asked her gently. Because he knew enough about good manners to realise that now was not the time to reignite their feud.

‘My heating’s gone,’ she told him, her voice blank. ‘Broken, I think. Anyway, I think half of Paris has lost their heating and they can’t send out a serviceman to repair the boiler until this storm passes.’

Ben sat back. ‘Fuck, you must be cold. It’s below thirty out there.’

She frowned. ‘Below thirty? Thirty would be a heatwave. I’d happily take thirty degrees any day.’

Ben shrugged. ‘Umm, I meant fahrenheit.’

‘Oh,’ the girl nodded. ‘Right. I only know celsius.’

For a moment they sat in silence. The girl was shaking still, her skin almost translucent. Ben jumped to his feet.

‘I should make you some coffee,’ he said.

‘I don’t want to be too much trouble-’ she protested, but he shook his head.

‘I was going to have some anyway,’ he assured her. ‘It’s no trouble.’

She was shaking less when he pressed a hot cup of coffee into her hands. She sipped at it, and he noted with satisfaction how the heat of the drink took some of that horrible blue from her lips. Lips that, once again, he couldn’t stop looking at.

‘Look,’ she began awkwardly, not looking at him. ‘I can cope with the cold. I’m British, coping with the cold is my birth right. But I have some plants upstairs that absolutely cannot cope with the cold. And you would be doing me a big favour if I could leave them with you until the storm passes and my boiler is fixed.’

Ben stared at her.

‘Plants?’

‘Yes,’ the girl looked up, finally meeting his eyes. ‘They’re green, leafy things that grow in dirt. They need water. Sunshine.’

‘I think I’ve heard of them,’ Ben nodded.

The girl almost smiled, just a brief, slight upturn of her mouth, but Ben sat back, transfixed. ‘Can I bring them here? I promise, you won’t have to do anything with them, in fact,’ she swallowed. ‘I would respectfully ask you not to touch them. No offence, but you don’t strike me as the houseplant type.’

‘Hey, I have a houseplant,’ he replied.

She looked surprised. ‘Really? What is it?’

‘Well, it's...’ Ben trailed off. ‘It came with the place. It’s green and leafy, wait, hang on-’

He went into his bedroom, seeing the plant where he’d shoved it in the corner of his room. He gingerly picked it up, proudly carrying it back through to the living room.

‘See?’ he said. ‘I put it in the sun, and water it occasionally, but it's doing really well.’

‘It’s plastic,’ the girl stated bluntly.

‘What? No, look, it’s in dirt and-’

‘It’s plastic,’ she said again. ‘The dirt is a feature, as is the stem. But the leaves aren’t real.’

Ben and the girl both stared at the plant- the fake plant- in his hands.

‘You’ve been watering a plastic plant, Je suis Américain?’

Ben put the plant down. ‘So it would seem.’

The girl burst into laughter. She covered her face, tried to hide her amusement, but the laughs still trickled out, until even the red-faced Ben was smiling.

‘So, I’m not a houseplant man,’ he shrugged eventually, still smiling. ‘I promise not to touch yours.’

‘Okay,’ the girl agreed, still smiling. And fuck, but she was pretty. Her face was gorgeous, in fact. She was all fine lines, soft eyes, and now Ben felt himself blushing for a very different reason.

He must have been staring at her, because the girl looked away. ‘What’s your name, Américain?’ she asked him.

‘Ben,’ he said, his voice lower and huskier than he intended. ‘Ben... Smith.

The name fell from his lips in an all too easy, though unexpected lie. Before he could consider the implications of what he’d just said though, Ben saw Rey’s eyes widen.

‘Smith?’ She asked him.

‘Yeah. Ben Smith,’ he said again, slower this time. ‘You look surprised.’

She quickly looked away. ‘Oh, no, it’s just…’ she shrugged. ‘It’s nothing.’

He stared at her. ‘What’s your name?’

‘I’m Rey.’

‘Rey,’ he repeated back to her, liking the sound.

‘Ben,’ she said, trying his own name out, almost as though she was tasting it. She smiled at him again. ‘It’s good to meet you, Ben.’

Ben helped Rey move her plants down to his apartment. And fuck, her place was cold. 

‘You can’t stay here,’ he said, absolutely aghast.

‘Of course I can,’ she replied easily. ‘Besides, I’ve nowhere else to go.’

‘You could stay with me,’ he offered.

She looked at him warily. 

‘Not, I mean,’ his face was hot, his words flustered, ‘I mean, I have a couch - a sofa - you could sleep on that. I mean, I could sleep on that, and you could stay in my bed - I mean, in the bed, and - ’

Rey was looking down, chewing on her lip. ‘I couldn’t trouble you like that,’ she said. ‘But thank you.’

And suddenly, just like that, it was very important to Ben that this girl stayed with him. He couldn’t countenance the thought of her sleeping here, in this ice-box, while he was warm downstairs.

‘Rey,’ he pleaded. ‘It’s below freezing in here. Now is not the time to be a martyr.’

‘I wasn’t - ’

‘Rey.’

And now Rey was nodding. ‘Thank you, Ben. Thank you. That’s more than kind of you.’

He looked away. ‘It’s nothing,’ he said. ‘Besides, now if any of your plants die you won’t be able to blame me.’

‘Well, at least we know the plastic one is safe.’

He reached out to take a plant from her hand, ready to carry it downstairs. And when he did, his fingers brushed against hers and he felt a jolt in his stomach, an exciting rush of adrenaline. He quickly glanced at Rey, to gauge her reaction. She was staring at their fingers, her mouth slightly open, her eyes wide.

‘Ben, is this a good idea?’ she asked him quietly, looking deep into his eyes.

His mouth was dry, his heart suddenly pounding faster. But still, he nodded. ‘This is the best idea I’ve ever had,’ he replied. 

And he’d never meant anything more.

***

Rey spent exactly one night on his couch before she ended up in his bed. Because Ben’s heating failed the next day, and his apartment quickly became as cold as hers. Luckily, his bathroom had an electric shower and underfloor heating, so Rey’s plants were safe - but the rest of the place? The rest of his place was like the arctic, minus the tundra sweeping across the plains.

When they went to sleep that night - him in his bed, her on the sofa, he could practically hear her shivering, she was so cold. For half an hour he listened to her plaintive whimpers, heard her rubbing her hands and feet together, heard her get up to put on extra layers of clothes and socks. By the time midnight rolled around he could bear it no longer, and he padded through to his living room, gazing at her evenly through the dark.

‘Right,’ he said. ‘Enough of this. Come to bed.’

She stared at him. ‘With you?’

‘Yeah,’ he said, swallowing uneasily. ‘With me.’

Rey looked away immediately, hugging a blanket to her chest awkwardly. ‘I don’t, umm, think that I should,’ she said through chattering lips, her arms shaking.

He sighed, low and long. ‘I’m tired,’ he told her, running a hand over his neck. ‘I’m tired, and I’m really, really cold. Don’t make me stand here longer than I should, okay? Get up, and come on through to the bed, will you?’ 

He could see, in the dim light of the room, the sheer temptation in her eyes. But she tempered it down, chewing on her lip, and shook her head.

‘Ben, look - ’

She wasn’t going to move, he knew it. She was going to lie there all night, in the freezing cold, and suffer rather than lie in his bed next to him.

There was nothing else for it. He took a step forward, ducking down, and before Rey could say anything, before she could protest, he hauled her up and into his arms and began carrying her towards his room. 

‘Look,’ he told her quietly. ‘We’re both freezing. Sharing human warmth is the easiest way to correct that. And my bed has a thick blanket. Please,’ he tried to keep the desire from his voice. ‘Please, I promise I won’t do anything... anything ungentlemanly. Just get into this bed, and cuddle up, okay?’

He put her down by the side of his bed and waited for her decision. Part of him hoped she would turn him down, that she would send him through to the sofa, and keep a safe distance between them. Somehow, he instinctively knew that he and Rey were on the precipice of something special here. And that thought terrified him almost as much as it intrigued him.

He wasn’t sure he wanted something special again.

He wasn’t sure he deserved it. 

Suddenly full of doubt, he opened his mouth to speak, to offer Rey the bed, fully prepared to relegate himself to the sofa and risk the cold of the night over the risk of getting too close to her. But just as he went to speak, Rey nodded.

‘Alright,’ she said, her voice wavering slightly. 

‘Alright?’ he repeated, stunned.

Rey nodded again, and biting on her lip, she began to peel off her extra layers, one by one, while Ben stared at her with a dry mouth, unwilling to watch, but also completely unable to look away. Eventually, when she was clad only in a thin singlet and sleep shorts, she climbed awkwardly into his bed, lying rigid and still on the sheets.

Now, it was her turn to stare at him, her hazel eyes wide, almost apprehensive. Ben climbed into the bed next to her, wrapping his arms around her small frame awkwardly. 

He inhaled sharply as she tentatively nestled against him, her body fitting against his like a missing puzzle piece. He slid a hand around her waist, letting it rest against her rib, and he could feel her heart fluttering against his palm. He held her, almost stiffly, trying not to compare the feel of her to the feel of –

‘I haven’t done this in a while,’ he blurted out abruptly, and she glanced over her shoulder at him, surprise in her eyes.

‘What?’ she asked. 

‘This,’ he said again, flexing hjs fingers against her waist. ‘This kind of… cuddling, I guess.’

‘Oh,’ she exhaled. ‘Oh. Why not?’

He shook his head, unwilling to admit the truth.

‘I just… I don’t…’

He must have sounded pained, because Rey slackened in his arms, the tension in her body giving way to an almost unbearable warmth and softness. Gently, she rested one of her hands over his, allowing him to link his fingers with hers, and she squeezed them.

‘It’s okay,’ she murmured, sleepiness in her voice. ‘It’s okay.’

No, it’s not, Ben wanted to reply. Nothing had been okay for years.

He hadn’t been okay for years. 

But Rey lolled within his arms, and, as her warmth spread over his skin and into the cold length of his limbs he felt himself melt against her. Within fifteen minutes they were both warm, and snug, and intrinsically linked together. It was like being on some sort of drug, Ben thought, and Rey was an endorphin quite unlike any other. She smelt like earth and coconut shampoo and felt like butter in his arms, and he couldn’t help but burrow his head into her neck, breathing in the warm air there. Without thinking, he pressed his lips to her skin, and felt her stir against him.

‘Ben,’ she exhaled gently. ‘Ben, is this a good idea?’

But he was far too gone now for common sense to prevail. ‘Rey,’ he kissed her neck again. ‘I think this might be the best idea I’ve ever had,’ he assured her, before they both drifted off into sleep.

When they woke in the morning, the snow was still coming down in thick rivulets. In the early light, Rey was shy in his arms, eyeing him warily as he extricated himself from the bed. He made coffee while she showered, and when she came back through, he startled to see her wearing one of his shirts.

‘Is this okay?’ she asked, fingering the hem gingerly. ‘I haven’t had a chance to get any clothes from my place yet.’

She looked so small, his shirt dwarfing her, hanging down past her waist like a dress. Her hair was damp, tied in a braid that snaked over one shoulder, and once again she was clutching the blanket from the night before, as though it were a shield between them. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, staring at the floor.

He gaped at her, only able to nod like an inane puppet. 

He didn’t dare speak. She was so beautiful that he didn’t trust himself to say a word. 

But Rey didn’t seem to notice his awkward silence. Instead, she looked relieved, moving to the kitchen quietly.

‘I’ll make breakfast,’ she glanced outside. ‘I might as well make some lunch too. This storm doesn’t look like it’s going to fade anytime soon. We still have power, thank God, but who knows for how long?’ 

‘Okay,’ he agreed, ‘that’s probably a good idea. I’m going, to, umm, work over there,’ he gestured to his laptop on his desk, and Rey nodded, giving him a small smile as he handed her a coffee.

‘Thank you,’ she glanced at his laptop again. 

‘You, umm, said you were writing a novel?’

‘Did I?’

‘Yes. That first night, when you came to my loft, you said you were writing a book,’ the blanket in her hand slipped slightly, exposing her knee, and Ben’s eyes trailed to the sliver of skin greedily.

‘Right,’ he replied, forcing his eyes back to hers and sipping at his own coffee. She blushed, readjusting the blanket, and he cleared his throat. ‘Yes, I am writing a book. Well, trying to, anyway.’

‘Trying to?’ she queried. ‘Is it not going well?’

Ben thought back to the months and months of empty pages, to the days when writing seemed an impossibility, a wall of words that could never be traversed. He recalled all the half-written sentences and useless paragraphs of text he’d managed to produce, all angrily crossed out in red pen, with expletives scrawled next to them. He remembered the writer’s block which frustrated him, night and day, until just a few weeks ago.

Until he’d met Rey.

‘It wasn’t,’ he said simply, his eyes holding hers intently, and she blushed again.

The Big Freeze lasted another two weeks.

But Rey never slept anywhere else in Paris again.

And Ben began to think that he might just be in love with the girl upstairs.

  
  



End file.
